Tow And Behold, A Sign!

I worked at a bar with a three-minute zone for taxis/rideshare/whatever. The three-minute hours were 6 pm to 3 am every Friday and Saturday night. Every night, I would show up at 9 PM, and there would be three to four cars parked in that zone.

I’d call the sheriff to send a deputy and a tow truck. Every night by 10 PM, the zone would be cleared. And every night, sometime between 1 AM and 3 AM, we’d point people to the sign with the dispatcher’s number to see where the car ended up. 

This happened every weekend, but one weekend I remember specifically because one of the cars being towed was a super nice Lamborghini. Mr. Lambo comes inside in the early hours, and I do the whole “look at the sign” spiel.

Car Owner: “Why is that sign so small?!”

Me: “I don’t know. It’s not our sign. It’s the county’s.”

Car Owner: “But it’s outside your property!”

Me: “Doesn’t mean we own it. That’s on the street.”

Car Owner: “If it’s outside your property, you own it!”

Me: “I’ll remember that the next time you park your Lambo outside! My Honda is getting up there in miles, and I need a new set of wheels.”