As we hung up, I began to wonder what was going on. Why did he want to meet me at the station? He'd done this once before when he'd forgotten his keys, but he was calling from the house. That couldn't be it. Was he taking me out for a surprise dinner? Unlikely, as we've got lots of yummy food in the house, and he's got to study. It was all a little odd.
When I got to the station, he was waiting just outside the ticket barriers and he didn't look happy. I asked what's happening and he says, "I think our car's been stolen."
Oh. Crap.
He wanted to go to the police station which isn't far from the train station, and file a report in person. On the way to the station, he filled me in.
He remembers vaguely where we left the car last night when we came home from Aikido, and I did too. It was parked on the left side, a little way up the street from our flat. It's always a question as to whether we'll find a space on our street that late, especially now that they are tearing a road that intersects our for water mains replacement. And now that space is empty. Car = gone.
The whole walk to the police station, we are incredulous. It's not a fancy car, worth money or good for a joy ride. There wasn't anything in it to steal. The alarm was on, and it has an immobilizer. Why would someone bother?
When we get to the station, the man behind the bullet proof glass was, I must say, a tiny bit dismissive to start off with. Are we sure it was stolen? We should check if it's been towed. Hubby assertively asked for the number to call the impound, and I think the cop took pity on us. He took our details and started to make some phone calls.
As we waited, I learned that my hubby has never been in a police station or a jail, nor has he ever been in a police car. On the other hand, I have, but for very benevolent reasons.
Finally, he motioned us over. Our car had been "relocated."
Relocated?
What the $%^& does that mean?
Our car had been relocated to a street away, and we should check on the car for notification as to why this was done.
On the walk to the car, there was a lot of grumbling.
When we finally found the car, we found a ticket under the wiper. A ticket!?! A ticket that claimed we had parked in a restricted bay.
Now, my hubby is a very conscientious driver and parker. We're not the sort to try to get away with anything. It's all very above board. So, there was a lot more grumbling, and we decided to investigate. We won't let these parking attendants push us around! Power to the people!
We stomped down our road to the parking spot, and found that there was a no parking sign on a pole one parking spot away from our spot, saying in tiny font that the parking spot in front of the house we parked in front of was restricted for a week's time for skip loading. Please note… there was no skip there. Otherwise, we wouldn't have parked there.
ARG!
Just right now, I went to go and take a picture of the sign and the non-existent skip, but the sign has been removed already. Which is very annoying. However, it will be more annoying for this poor guy with the black car:
He's parked in the same place we were removed from, has a ticket on his windshield for £50, and won't even have the sign (one parking spot away) to refer to when he gets back.
Please note the pole where the sign once was is clearly in front of another parking spot, not the restricted one where the black car is.
Curses on parking attendant quotas.
No comments:
Post a Comment