Parking Violation

 I walk past a lot of trash. I pick up a lot too.

Lately, our street has become a dumping ground not just for the occasional fast food wrapper or tipped recycling bin. Now we are the recipients of cars that have been separated from their owners. I hesitate to refer to these as "stolen cars" because that would imply knowledge of the intent of those who left their auto-refuse outside our house. 

It could be that these were vehicles that were borrowed, or loaned indiscriminately. It just happened that the back windows were broken to allow the person or persons who "borrowed" them access to the interior and anything that might have gotten in their way to the front seat. And that lack of keys caused a considerable amount of frustration when it came time to start the car. As witnessed by the tangle of wires and shredded plastic around the steering column. And in true Grinch fashion, we can be certain that these kind folks took the stereo from the dashboard because there was a light that wouldn't light on one side. They're taking it back to their workshop and they'll fix it up there, and bring it back here.

At least that's what I tell myself as these abandoned hulks sit, day after day, week after week in parking spots that can be scarce, especially on days when those law-abiding members of our neighborhood are attempting to comply with the street-sweeping No Parking signs. This means little to those "shared ride" drivers who leave the car they are driving with no discernable sense of coming back to it. 

Every so often, of course, my wife or I will spot what we think is a purloined automobile and make a report to the non-emergency website for the police to come and check it out. When they have a chance. No rush. In that space of time we sometimes find out that this is the van that a friend said they could leave there "for a few days" while that part they needed showed up at the nearest AutoZone. Imagine our shock and dismay upon finding out that the Dodge Challenger that is covered in a thick layer of dust, missing a window and front bumper, is actually the family car of the cousins of the neighbor at the end of the street. They just needed a place to park it. For six or seven weeks. 

In the meantime, those Chick-Fil-A bags and empty pint bottles of cheap rum can be removed without a permit. 

So I'll focus on those.