So: I thought TWUBBL and I may have had a little trouble with the local constabulary—except TWUBBL was there, and I wasn’t. Neither were they, as it turned out. But that’s the end of the story, and this is only the first paragraph.1
Allow me to provide some context. As part of the Sturm und Drang arising from the goat rodeo otherwise known as my attempt to secure a garage lift at a not-crazy price, it’s been clear that the Sturm, the Drang, the goats, and even the rodeo clowns have been winning. Tariffs continue to frustrate the vendors and make it practically impossible for them to engage in normal transactions, and because of my Scottish and Swiss ancestry, as well as my upbringing by Great Depression Era parents, I’m both generally and genetically indisposed to pay crazy money for anything, let alone a garage lift.2 As a result, every couple of days, after everyone else in the neighborhood has gone to work, I’ve been moving TWUBBL, the ex-Satch-and-Party-A Dinan Three, to a new place on the street. Except for one weekend (there was an event at the adjacent park) and on election day (because the local polling station is a block away and people here tend to vote in person), it really hasn’t been too much trouble, only a mild annoyance. It’s not that there haven’t been other options for off-street parking, but they’ve all suffered from one of two disqualifying faults: Either they’ve been stupid expensive or unduly distant.
Until now.
One of the large neighborhood condo complexes completed their remodeling, and the space reserved for all of the construction crap was no longer needed. As a result, 10 off-street spaces two blocks away became available with attractive long-term lease terms. How attractive? I’ll be 102 years old by the time the cost difference between the lift and parking lease zeros out.3
Sure, it’s outdoor parking, but TWUBBL came with a car cover, and the space is under a mature tree, and therefore shaded. It would be nice if there was electricity available so I could plug in a battery tender, but I drive the car often enough that it’s really not too much trouble. So I signed the lease, wrote a check for six months, and took possession of the space on a Monday. I backed the car in, pulled up the window shades, locked the doors, and congratulated myself for both my patience and business acumen.
Now you’re caught up.
Imagine my surprise on Wednesday when I found a police SUV parked next to the car. My initial thought was, literally, “Ruh-Roh, I’m in trouble now.”4 It’s not like I’d done anything particularly dumb in TWUBBL; I’ve been good (at least recently). But given the ubiquity of stupidity and the prevalence of speed and red-light cameras around Northern Virgina, it’s just not that hard to get a surprise in the mail.
It’s not like I have trouble with law enforcement, especially now, as an old white guy with nice cars in a nice neighborhood, but I still had that residual unease from being a goofy teenage driver with more testosterone than skill. As a result, I had an immediate flair of anxiety that my surprise might be more immediate, more visceral, and by extension, more expensive.
But no: The Explorer was empty, and it seems that the space next to mine is its new home.
While I was initially concerned, I quickly reconsidered: The Explorer is liveried and fully cop-equipped, including what appear to be cameras and video-recording equipment. I couldn’t tell if this equipment was running, but there were red lights glowing in the center console, and the sheer obviousness of police presence was enough, at least for my purposes. Of course, the weaponry had been removed (as it should be), but if the manual transmission in TWUBBL isn’t enough to preclude theft, the possibility of being recorded in the act should dissuade even the most intellectually impaired of car thieves. I concluded that on balance, this was a good thing and not trouble.
Even were I tempted to make dramatic, tire-smoking exits from the lot, I wouldn’t. This is partly because of the police presence, but mostly because it would be a singularly gormless thing to do; I actually like my neighbors, and despite their taste in music, I like their kids, too. Most important, all of their dogs love me. In addition, the entry to the lot is from a narrow street, and is itself narrow and flanked by very large, solid brick pillars.
It’s been a few weeks since that initial encounter, and while the police vehicle isn’t always there, it’s there frequently—and on no predictable schedule. While there is a small police substation a couple of blocks away in the park, it seems that it’s there only for emergencies and park events. As a result, the neighborhood wisdom is that the vehicle belongs to a neighbor.
I’m actually hoping to meet this neighbor at the next happy hour so I can thank them for the good trouble. You know, for TWUBBL.
- No, I did not bury the lede. I led with lede. It’s hardly my fault that in the absence of backstory, the lede makes no damn sense. For what it’s worth, this whole episode has been a journey of consistent frustration, senseless whimsy, irritating serendipity, and frequent parallel parking. Your patience is appreciated.
- I have plenty of other, better things to spend crazy money on, ancestry be damned: travel, guitars, Steve McCurry prints, an X5 M with a safari build that I also don’t have any place to park.
- As an added benefit, the space is right behind our favorite Indian restaurant. They have a great happy hour, good lunch specials, and best lamb biryani I’ve ever had. This makes it temptingly easy to confirm that TWUBBL is still where it’s supposed to be.
- Use a Scooby-Doo voice for the full effect. I did.
Photo: Harrison Keely/Wikimedia Commons 4.0
