the bitch who had your truck towed

I’m a bitch. I want bad things to happen to people. And even though it’s only a little part of me that wants that, it’s there just the same. And what kind of person wants someone’s car towed? And takes a teeny bit of gleeful satisfaction from it? Me, that’s who. The bitch that is me.

Apartments in the complex I live in don’t come with assigned parking. There are a variety of unmarked open spaces that residents and visitors alike can vie for. May the earliest driver win. Actually, it’s not that bad. There are always spaces available. If it’s late at night, you might not find a space exactly where you want one, but there’s one nearby.

In addition to these unmarked spaces, residents can pay a monthly fee for a marked carport space. This is what I do. I have a space all my own, fairly near to my apartment. The beauty of a reserved space, of course, is that I don’t have to worry about finding a space. No matter what time I come home, my space is available to me. It’s covered, so I don’t have to worry about ice or snow (well, no one has to worry about snow this year), or parking under a tree. I pay for the privilege of this space.

A couple of times a week, I come home and find someone has parked in my space. It seems like a small thing, but it really irritates the hell out of me. Because my space is obviously marked, and this person has said, “I don’t care that I haven’t paid for this space and someone else has. I’m too lazy to hunt around, and this person isn’t here right now. So they can just deal.”

This has happened to me so many times that I know the drill well. Normally it’s late, so I leave a note on the car. “This space is reserved. Please do not park here.” Normally, that’s all it takes. The next day, I see that the car has moved into someone else’s reserved space. If the office is open, I’ll tell them, and they’ll leave an official note.

A truck parked in my space on Sunday. I left a note. Monday morning, it and the note were still there. On Tuesday, I told the office. They also left a note. Wednesday, the truck was still there. Still! Thursday? There was the truck. It’s one thing to park in someone’s space overnight, but quite another to leave your car there for five days. So, I went back to the office.

“You’ve left a note?”

“I left a note Monday. You left a note Tuesday. Today is Thursday. The truck is still there.”

“OK, well, we can have it towed if it’s been there for 48 hours. Has it been 48 hours?”

“Uh, it’s been four and a half days.”

A few hours later, I noticed the truck was gone. I don’t know if it was towed or if the owner finally moved it. Part of me hopes the person moved it, because how sucky is it to come out to get your car and find it gone? But another part of me hoped it was towed. What kind of jerk parks their car in my reserved space and just leaves it there? For five days? Part of me even wants to see the guy come back to find his truck and just watch him look at my car in the space where his truck used to be. It would be kind of funny. But also sort of sad. And I feel bad for him just thinking about it. And also, I wouldn’t want him to think me responsible for his missing truck and then do something bad to my car.

If only people would stop using my space to store their vehicles, I wouldn’t have to deal with these conflicting emotions. I swear, I’m going to start taking down license plates and sending bills for my therapy.

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