by Lindsay
The
Auto HELL
by Shrimper
Do you ever feel like some one has put a "kick-me" sticker on the back of your car when you weren't looking? One night on my way to a show at the CW I was pulled over not once, but TWICE for my broken front headlight. The second time, the mustached fuzz sidles up all brusque and serious and asks me rudely for my license and registration. I blink cutely and say: "Officer, is this about my missing headlight?" He replies even more brusquely: "That's the initial stop: Give me your license and registration." "Well," I reply innocently, "I would be happy to, officer, but you see I JUST GOT A PULLED OVER FIVE MINUTES AGO FOR THE SAME OFFENSE, and are you sure you wouldn't just like to see my fix-it ticket instead?" *blink* *blink* "Oh, well, errrr...yes, I suppose that would be better." (looks at ticket . . . shuffles awkwardly) "Oh, you weren't kidding...5 minutes ago, huh? Well, errr, I guess everything checked out. You see...uhhh..we've been instructed to pull over anyone with a minor technical infraction recently because . . . err. . . mumble mumble mumble." "Oh, I understand officer," I reply (without a hint of sarcasm), "perfectly reasonable. Thank you for keeping our streets safe! Bye Now."
What follows is an account of an equally wretched morning during which I attempted to actually clear my record of the heinous crime of broken front headlight.
0900: Leave house determined to resolve "fix-it" ticket for missing headlight (which will become very expensive if not signed today).
0905: Arrive at Mission Police Station, wait 10 minutes for fuzz to wander into office (chomping on donut, of course.)
0915: Ask crumb-laden fuzz to sign "reminder notice" after explaining that the original citation has gone the way of all good things. Fuzz looks puzzled, chomps donut, scratches head, tells me to go to 850 Bryant to get a new citation (because, apparently, he only knows how to sign "the back of the original citation, where there's a little field for his name.")
0930: drive to 850 Bryant. Look for Parking.
0940: Look for Parking.
0950: Look for Parking.
1000: Look for Parking.
1020: Look for Parking.
1030: Give up and park 4 blocks away. Walk through rain to Hall of "Justice".
1040: Spend 10 minutes wandering aimlessly in search of room 101 (Parking Citation Division). 1050: Find the room. Join line (which snakes out of the room and down the hall...)
1100: Am alarmed to see young child running at electrical outlet with fork.
1101: Am relieved to see young child's father yank him back from outlet in the nick of time.
1120: Finally arrive at front of line, am laughed at by large black woman behind counter and told that fuzz at Mission Station is a big incompetent jerk. Convince her to make me a copy of the original citation "just in case."
1130: After determining that none of the grumpy looking cops at the Hall of "Justice" will walk the 4 blocks to my car to sign my fix-it ticket, i once again brave the rain (coming down in sheets now) and make it back to my car.
1145: Arrive BACk at the Mission Police Station looking like an extremely grouchy contestant in a wet t-shirt contest. Wait while battered woman tries to file a complaint against her husband for beating her and her child and is told by the fuzz behind window that the MIssion Police Station can do nothing for her, and that she will need to call the police in her own district, preferably WHILE an occurance of the violence is taking place. (WHAT THE FUCK!?)
1150: Finally speak with the cop, who tries to explain that she can't sign the copy of the citation which I JUST received from the Hall of "Justice", because, (again) it is conspicuously missing the little field on the back where cops sign their names.
1152: I tell her to suck it and sign the god damn thing, because it took me an hour and a half and a bad hair day to get it, I'm about to start biting the heads off of chickens, and I'm very late for my wet t-shirt contest (ok, perhaps not in those exact words, but she got the picture). She signs it without (of course) looking at my car.
1200: Jokes on her, my headlight still doesn't work.
I bought my Honda, $2200, and took it to get smog checked. It failed so I took it to Hall Bros, $170, on Monday, they did a mini tune up and said I had to take it elsewhere for a catalytic convertor (the other place could do it for cheaper). So I decided to work a half day yesterday (Thursday), go get that done and smogged and then go to the DMV to register it.
I'm on my way to work when a peace officer, Officer Mayers, pulls me over for out of date registration on my plates (Arkansas). I say, well I just bought it and I'm going to the DMV after work, here is my whole folder containing insurance, title, failed smog cert etc. He says, I'm going to tow your car and cite you. I bawl on my car and plead mercy. NO. I throw my title at him because he needs it to fill out the ticket. Even though I have 30 days to register it in my name, the previous owner had let the registration lag 6 months, I wasn't aware of this. I sign ticket and walk to work crying all the way. Never do I feel like disturbing the peace more than when I come into contact with a peace officer.
I work till 1 and then drive my Falcon to the DMV for a temp registration, $260, for the Honda. I drive home and take the bus, $1, to 850 Bryant only to find that the cop window that you pay your traffic tickets closes at 3. It's about 3:20. I yell at two different cops on my way out, walk to a friend's house, ring bell no answer. I walk to 16th, take the bus home.
This morning I wake up, take bus, $1, to 850 Bryant, pay the same cop that cited me, $150. His explanation for the window closing at 3 is, "After 6 hours of bad vibes, you have to close at 3." I go to the City Tow window and pay $170. I take the bus to pier 70 and get my car. I drive to Meineke for a catalytic convertor, $220 including labor. I drive to 19th and Ortega for another smog test, $40. I drive to DMV for auto inspection and sign off. And did I mention that the original day I had planned to smog it, I woke up to a bashed windshield, $189? The end.
While you're in the spirit, how's about reading:
