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Nazis are alive and well and running car parks in Asia
MY wife got a parking fine the other day. Yet she had parked within the white lines, heaped money into the meter, and returned well before expiry time. What was the deal?
It turned out that parking spaces on that street had been designated as "vans and trucks only,” and those on the next street "cars only.” However, the owners of the parking spaces had made sure there was no visible information about this.
For years there have been running battles between people with cars and people with parking
spaces. I stopped at one parking garage recently, which displayed a big sign at the entrance: "ONLY $6." I nipped in and stayed just a few minutes. On the way out, officials demanded $24.
"But the sign said six dollars," I complained.
"Sixdollars for 15 minutes," the official said. "Minimum stay one hour."
A week later, officials put up a large disclaimer on the car park wall: "The owners of this car park take no liability whatsoever for any theft or damage or any other occur -rence concerning your car,
whether caused by directly or indirectly by us."
If you think about it, this disclaimer actually gives car park staff full permission to break into your car, steal your stereo, and leave notes sneering at your taste in music. Knowing the officials who work there, it's probably only a matteroftime before they do. (Ijust hope they take my wife's Carly Simon CDs.)
I saw one disclaimer that was even worse. In the car park at Mughal Gardens, Srinigar, India, there's an extra line "No Responsibility for Explosions." So
they can blow up your car if they feel like.
The following week, officials at my local car park added three new layers of control. A computer records the time you enter. An automatic camera takes a time-stamped picture of your car on the way in. And a little man in a uniform writes down your number plate and arrival time in a log-book.
After lunch one day, I went to pick up my car and discovered, to my horror, that I had lost my entry ticket.
The car park official was thrilled. "You lost ticket, you pay
24 hours' parking fee," he grinned.
I explained that I had only been there an hour.
"You got no proof,” he said.
"lYue," I said. "But you do. You have a computer record. AND you have a photo record. AND you have a Logbook Kept by a Little Man in a Uniform record."
He looked horrified. It was true. There was now a mountain of evidence protecting the driver.
He went into a huddle with other officials. They eventually decided that instead of asking for the cost of 24 hours' parking, they would demand the same money but call it
a "LostTicketHandling Charge."
So I had to pay it But it was almost worth it just to have tormented them for a few minutes.
I heard of a case in London recently in which a driver returned to his parked car to find that officials had painted a white "Disabled Parking Only" box on the ground around the vehicle, and then attached a parking fine to his windscreen.
Which is why I now carry grey paint in the boot of my car.
This is war, you know.
Fighting a war maybe preferable to visiting our columnists webs te www r.r^chi com.