While delivering newspapers in the north end of Virginia City, I returned to my wife’s car and found it ticketed for a parking violation, a $295 fine.
To say that I am not angry about this would be a lie. Honesty, I am more than angry, but I don’t know a word for that amount of anger.
The sign near where I park each Friday says “For Deliveries Only,” which incidentally also reads “$68 fine” for a parking violation. I was out delivering, yet cited anyway.
The real rub is people speeding up and down the street, traveling faster than the post 20 miles per hour. It seems time would be better spent on stopping them than worrying over parking, which has always been and always will be in short supply.
The twist is that Mary is the one who actually received the citation, as her name appears first on the vehicle registration. However, she was not in Virginia City but at work in Spanish Springs, 35 miles away, when the ticket got tucked under the windshield wiper.
So now, I am trying to find a way to get this citation voided because I did not break the law, and neither did Mary. And that is the third thing that pisses me off about this effing mess.
I hate begging to have the right thing done.
The Old Blog in the Desert 