On the lookout for a no-marking zone Author: Daniel Burt Date: 04/08/2007 Publication: The Age
Parking tickets mean either flagrant law-breaking or widespread reading difficulties among drivers, says Daniel Burt.
"DON'T GET ME WRONG, SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE ..." I've heard that sentence finish many surprising ways: "rugby players", "climate change deniers", even "fur wearers", but never "parking inspectors". Parking is one of life's nefarious backdrops that dictate what you do, where, when and for how long. A leisurely stroll through a gallery must be enjoyed in less than two hours (four if your child is prepared to rub off the chalk marks). Otherwise, approaching your car knowing your time has expired is like creeping through the back door, praying that mum forgot your curfew.
Pay parking has proliferated and so has the number of inspectors. Knowledge of their very existence negatively impacts on quality of life. Picnickers, exercisers and shoppers spend their day with one eye on the clock, and the PERIN Court does not accept "time is a social construct" as a valid excuse. To avoid fines, I've written dozens of letters claiming to be a disabled pregnant woman who left the car only for a second to help save a basket of kittens from an oncoming truck. As usual, the person reading the letter is a dog person.
At some beaches, paying for parking at least allows you to see bikini-clad meter maids. Unfortunately, the last time I was on the Gold Coast I thought every woman at the beach was in uniform, and so gave all my loose change to a group of girls on schoolies. Their fathers and I settled out of court ... in the car park - where I got fined again.
In Melbourne, council parking fines and fees constitute a $150 million industry - which is evidence of either flagrant law-breaking or widespread reading difficulties among drivers. Most, however, see the figure as "revenue raising", and it is. The money is put back into the community to fund infrastructure, such as the creation of more ticket machines.
Inspectors bear the brunt of our cynical hatred. While Australians love an underdog, we despise an underdog with power. To many, parking inspectors are high school hall monitors all grown up.
To ease relations between inspectors and the public, I offer the following ideas:
Get rid of those wide-brimmed blue hats. Who over the age of seven needs a chin strap? Something about draw-strings just makes us want to steal your lunch money.
Take a bribe, already. You're not in the Federal Police. Accept the $20 cash and we'll pretend this never happened.
Have fun with chalking the tyre. Start a game of noughts and crosses and leave the chalk. Come back at hourly intervals to make a new move. Whoever loses has to pay the fine.
Turn the back of the ticket into a shop-a-docket. Knowing I've blown a day's wages on parking is easier to swallow when I also get 10 per cent off my next pizza meal.
Dress up as koalas. It's hard to hate you when you're cuddly.
Failing those, you could just park legally - and always carry a valid hall pass.