Another fixture of our neighborhood is a car that I'm pretty sure belongs to someone who lives downstairs. This is because, like the people who live downstairs, it looks awful, never goes anywhere during the day and generally appears to be useless. It does little besides take up valuable parking space near our building. The only time it moves is when it is required to by the street cleaning schedule.
That it can move even this much is a minor miracle. Because, you see, the car looks like this:
Besides the ugly stickers, note the perennially flat rear right tire, rendering the car unsuitable for driving any distance great enough to require an automobile. They never inflate the tire. They never change it. It's been flat forever. But then again, why should they fixate on a little thing like a flat tire when, after all, the car also has no fucking hood!
That's right. It doesn't even have a hood. The engine is just open, exposed to the elements. It gets rained on. Tree leaves and branches fall right in. Stephanie reports that she looked out the window one time and happened to spot a passerby doing a double-take at the sight of it.
Seriously, Guys Who Live Downstairs, does anyone ever intend to use this car? It's not in any shape to drive, and no one seems to be making any effort to change that. Is it worth hanging onto just for the pleasure of moving it every Thursday and Friday? Real cars could be using those plum parking spaces.
One of the happiest days in recent memory was when I came out and noticed that the car had not been moved for street sweeping--it was still where it had been the day before. I walked over for a closer look. Its windshield wiper held a familiar red-lettered envelope: a parking ticket. And I had a little celebration in my head. Is that wrong?