Impounded

You know those people that wanted to be cops but didn't quite make the cut so now they patrol the neighborhood and call themselves "patrol masters"? Ya, they hate me. First they gave us the hardest time about getting our parking permit and then when I do finally get it and put it in the exact location on my wind shield, they tow it. Oh, but first they take a picture of the permit and then say I'm not on the safe list. They claim they couldn't read it. So, yesterday morning I went out to my car and guess what? It's not there....I tell myself I'm not crazy and that yes, I drive a white honda civic and that that is not one of the options in the parking spaces in front of my house. I call my lovely patrol master friend and he says, "Oh ya, we towed it." He tells me how he couldn't see the sticker and I said that is unacceptable and the camera must be malfunctioning. He waves the charge but still I have to pick up my little Civy. Well, the impound lot is just like the movies- sketchy, creepy, nasty, mean fence and barbwire and a hole of a office with a rock for the front step. Needless to say it was quite an experience and no I did not pay the $230 to free my poor little car. 
The end.


xo, p&l