Mood shifts when time found on parking meters

Some of you may have had the overwhelming pleasure of dropping a quarter into a 75-cent pop machine and having a can of pop roll out. Somebody before you had left 50 cents in the machine.

I experience something similar to that drug-induced euphoria when somebody leaves me free time on the washer at a self-service car wash. I spray the wand into the air with irresponsible abandon to refute my aged mother’s dictum: “Nothing is free in this world.” Oh, yes there are a few things, Mom.

Getting free time on the dryer at the laundry or finding some credits on a slot machine at the casino are all therapeutic events that can bolster a person’s day more than any hourlong session with a shrink.

But perhaps the greatest boost for the human psyche is the double whammy we get from finding some time left on a parking meter.

The double pleasure comes from, first, finding a parking space and then, second, getting a bunch of free time paid by the sap who was parked there before you. This blessing takes on a serious religious quality when you also discover that you had only three pennies in your coin purse.

Praise the Lord!

But there are evil forces afoot in this dangerous world.

A few years ago, a cruel and villainous man named Vince Yost patented the idea of a radio frequency sensor attached to a parking meter. This device has a kind of sonar that can tell when a car pulls out of the parking space.

The device triggers the parking meter to “zero out” as the car pulls away from the parking spot. No more free parking minutes – not if the ruthless manufacturer of this vile product has its way.

See what I am talking about at the foul Web site, www.intellipark.com. Please feel the obligation to make some hissing noises at this point.

After discovering this sad news, I gave in to the heartbreak. I decided to sell my car. Why go on?

In that darkest moment, I called the guy at City Hall in charge of parking meters: traffic control supervisor Dave Shaw.

Dave sensed that I was distraught. He talked me down with his calm voice and reassuring words.

He gave me the big picture of Spokane’s parking meters, for which his department is responsible. They have more than 2,700 of them, ticking away all over the city.

The city of Spokane has no plans to install the sonar parking meters at this time. This seemed reasonable, since the city is strapped for money at this time, and sonar meters cost a lot (one of those “nothing is free” things that Mother was right about).

Dave stayed on the line until my sobbing was over, then he bid me goodbye, explaining that he had to return to other duties in the traffic department.

Nowadays, I own my own clothes dryer, don’t drink soda, I pay to have my car washed and have quit gambling, so my last pleasure would be wiped out if sonar parking meters come to town.

The occasional free parking minutes are important to me.

Dave, don’t take away my only hope in this vale of tears.