The town of Brookline, MA has a certain luxurious aftertaste to it: overnight parking is banned in the whole of the city. That's right: you can't leave your car in the street overnight. Ever.
The solution? Well, the more expensive apartment complexes offer complimentary parking space. The less expensive ones offer it for an extra fee. But in either case, the space is rarely enough for everybody. So some of proud brooklinians are forced to seek parking space somewhere else - also for a fee, of course.
But even that still seems not enough.
Therefore, in it's infinite care for the citizens, the generous city of Brookline is offering municipal parking space. Of course, also for a fee. And of course, not for the whole day. During the business hours, you see, the lots are used for other - business-related - purposes. But come 8PM, the proud municipal tenant is free to occupy the space. Until the next morning, that is. Because come 9AM, any proud tenant who neglected to remove their car will be towed away. For business-related purposes.
So the bottom line for the aforementioned proud tenant would be: come from work, find an on-street parking space, hang out until 8pm, move the car to the parking lot (possibly enduring a line of similar-minded proud tenants), go home, go to sleep, wake up at 8am (or so), go to the parking lot, take the car, find an on-street parking space (in case you don't have to go to work right away), repeat.
Really nice. Real Commonwealth - as in, giving up personal comforts in the interest of the group.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Wanna private beach? Talk to the mayor!
The clever citizens of Gloucester, MA (pronounced "glo-ster") have figured out a way to have their own private beach. Just for the citizens of Gloucester.
You can't, of course, have a locals-only beach, that would be ridiculous, wound't it? But you can have locals-only parking. Add two and two, and voila: all you need to do is declare all parking around the beach "resident permit only". And, just in case some non-local basterds feel like walking a little, also declare several blocks around "no parking any time".
Bravo!
You can't, of course, have a locals-only beach, that would be ridiculous, wound't it? But you can have locals-only parking. Add two and two, and voila: all you need to do is declare all parking around the beach "resident permit only". And, just in case some non-local basterds feel like walking a little, also declare several blocks around "no parking any time".
Bravo!
Tax-free weekend in Massachusetts
I just found out. Seriously, they have it here. It's like "casual Friday in prison". Like "bring-your-ugly-little-browser day in a girls-only school". Like "a spoon of honey in a barrel of shit".
Seriously. They have a tax-free weekend. The whole weekend. Two whole days. Absolutely no sales tax. In Massachusetts.
Really? No sales tax?! For two days?! IN MASSACHUSETTS?!!
Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you very much. I'm sooooo grateful. Where do I send a "thank you" card?
Seriously. They have a tax-free weekend. The whole weekend. Two whole days. Absolutely no sales tax. In Massachusetts.
Really? No sales tax?! For two days?! IN MASSACHUSETTS?!!
Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you very much. I'm sooooo grateful. Where do I send a "thank you" card?
Monday, July 12, 2010
Nicest people in the country (nicer - only in NYC)
One of the hallmarks of the Boston people is, of course, concern for others.
For example, many nice people would let their kids get completely soaked in the splash fountain near playground (very nice on a hot day), and then go on a swing or a slide right in those soaked clothes, thus leaving the swing (or the slide) completely wet. This way, you see, they do a big favor to other (dry) kids, who want to escape the heat by wetting their bottoms, but are too shy to actually go to the fountain themselves. People who are extra nice also give their kids buckets or similar containers so they can actually bring water from the fountain and pour it down the slide, thus making it a water slide.
It is also widely accepted to take other kid's toys without asking. This is called "commonwealth" - as in "all wealth is common". (One must note, though, that taking adult toys in a similar fashion is not considered OK for some reason)
Other considerate (to animals) people think it's OK to walk their dog (and yes - let it pee) right on the playground lawns and structures, despite a very clear sign that reads "No dogs, please" and has a nice picture of a cute doggy crossed with a red line (apparently, for those who are illiterate, yet manage to own a dog). One must give them a credit, though: most dog owners at least take care to do their despicable deed at night, when there are no kids around. But still there are a few others, who don't bother to check for kids first.
(A side note: I'm not even complaining about off-leash dogs. At this point, I would be happy if that was the only problem)
(And another side note: on the rare occasions when I make the fatal mistake of asking the dog owner to obey the law, I usually get a useful advice that I should go and have a sexual intercourse with myself)
But enough about playgrounds. After all, nice people can be found all over Boston, not just around kids.
One of such great places is, of course, the subway. Many people are helpful enough to provide reading material to their fellow subway riders. The material is provided in the form of free newspapers lying here and there on the seats. And when a newspaper has been read enough times, it will not be wasted: instead, it will be carefully put on the train floor in order to help other passengers wipe their feet. And when it finally turns into a dirty mess from all the foot wiping... Well, it just continues to lie there on the floor - it doesn't have any other place to go after all, does it?
A funny episode happened with me a few days ago. As I was trying to cross a street with my two kids in a double stroller, I found an unexpected obstacle in the form of a small truck standing right on the crosswalk and blocking it completely. Luckily (or so I thought), the driver was in the truck (probably waiting for someone), so I tapped on his hood and waived my hand, showing him that I would like him to move a bit. The driver stared at me for a few seconds without doing anything, so I walked over to his passenger door, opened it and asked the driver to please move. To that, the driver responded that if he backs up, he's going to hit somebody. When I insisted, arguing that I was unable to cross the street, the driver asked me, quite politely, to "close the fucking door". After a few minutes, another person walked out of a nearby Dunkin Donuts and sat on the passenger seat. The truck backed up a bit and started merging onto the street. When I pointed out to the driver that he is backing up right now, and therefore, as he himself has said just a few minutes ago, is going to hit somebody, I got another response, which was both polite and full of concern for my well being. Quote: "go back to your own country, retard!" And with that, the truck sped away.
While this is one of the most vivid episodes, it is not the only one. In fact, I meet nice people with similar level of concern for my well being probably every other day. While this still beats Moscow (where I was born and grew up) by far, it is a very big step in Moscow's direction compared to Seattle.
For example, many nice people would let their kids get completely soaked in the splash fountain near playground (very nice on a hot day), and then go on a swing or a slide right in those soaked clothes, thus leaving the swing (or the slide) completely wet. This way, you see, they do a big favor to other (dry) kids, who want to escape the heat by wetting their bottoms, but are too shy to actually go to the fountain themselves. People who are extra nice also give their kids buckets or similar containers so they can actually bring water from the fountain and pour it down the slide, thus making it a water slide.
It is also widely accepted to take other kid's toys without asking. This is called "commonwealth" - as in "all wealth is common". (One must note, though, that taking adult toys in a similar fashion is not considered OK for some reason)
Other considerate (to animals) people think it's OK to walk their dog (and yes - let it pee) right on the playground lawns and structures, despite a very clear sign that reads "No dogs, please" and has a nice picture of a cute doggy crossed with a red line (apparently, for those who are illiterate, yet manage to own a dog). One must give them a credit, though: most dog owners at least take care to do their despicable deed at night, when there are no kids around. But still there are a few others, who don't bother to check for kids first.
(A side note: I'm not even complaining about off-leash dogs. At this point, I would be happy if that was the only problem)
(And another side note: on the rare occasions when I make the fatal mistake of asking the dog owner to obey the law, I usually get a useful advice that I should go and have a sexual intercourse with myself)
But enough about playgrounds. After all, nice people can be found all over Boston, not just around kids.
One of such great places is, of course, the subway. Many people are helpful enough to provide reading material to their fellow subway riders. The material is provided in the form of free newspapers lying here and there on the seats. And when a newspaper has been read enough times, it will not be wasted: instead, it will be carefully put on the train floor in order to help other passengers wipe their feet. And when it finally turns into a dirty mess from all the foot wiping... Well, it just continues to lie there on the floor - it doesn't have any other place to go after all, does it?
A funny episode happened with me a few days ago. As I was trying to cross a street with my two kids in a double stroller, I found an unexpected obstacle in the form of a small truck standing right on the crosswalk and blocking it completely. Luckily (or so I thought), the driver was in the truck (probably waiting for someone), so I tapped on his hood and waived my hand, showing him that I would like him to move a bit. The driver stared at me for a few seconds without doing anything, so I walked over to his passenger door, opened it and asked the driver to please move. To that, the driver responded that if he backs up, he's going to hit somebody. When I insisted, arguing that I was unable to cross the street, the driver asked me, quite politely, to "close the fucking door". After a few minutes, another person walked out of a nearby Dunkin Donuts and sat on the passenger seat. The truck backed up a bit and started merging onto the street. When I pointed out to the driver that he is backing up right now, and therefore, as he himself has said just a few minutes ago, is going to hit somebody, I got another response, which was both polite and full of concern for my well being. Quote: "go back to your own country, retard!" And with that, the truck sped away.
While this is one of the most vivid episodes, it is not the only one. In fact, I meet nice people with similar level of concern for my well being probably every other day. While this still beats Moscow (where I was born and grew up) by far, it is a very big step in Moscow's direction compared to Seattle.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Camping: the Massachusetts style!
When I was young, strong and flexible, I did my fair share of backpacking. And not in Seattle, mind you! That golden period of my life I spent in and around Moscow, Russia. Winter temperatures there can go as low as -10°F (yes, that's minus ten degrees) or even -20°F. But that rarely stops real, hardcore backpackers.
Here's how a typical morning of a backpacker looks.
You wake up about an hour before the rest of the team, get out of the tent, find your boots and start hitting them with the reverse side of an axe until they become soft and flexible again. Then you put them on, turn the axe around, and set off to find some firewood. Firewood grows in abundance around the camp, but you have to watch out for forest rangers, who have this silly affection for all living things, including trees, but excluding freezing backpackers. After you have enough firewood, you start a fire. And that usually comes just in time to save your fingers from freezing off. Once your fingers are ok, you take the can and go to find some water. If you're lucky, you go to a nearby spring or village well, otherwise you just melt some snow. And finally, when you have water and fire, you can start cooking.
(All that, of course, if you have the misfortune to be on duty on that particular day. Otherwise, you wake up comfortably with a fire ready, breakfast cooked, and your boots thawed for you)
Anyway, what was I getting at? Oh, right! Please don't take the below rant as "another fat, bald, middle-aged american who is unable to spend a day outside of his air-conditioned car or cushy couch". Yes, I'm fat and middle-aged (not bald, though - thanks to The Ultimate Hairdresser up there), but I'm more than able to pull off that trick. And I don't have a cushy couch.
Once upon a time, we have decided that city life is ok, but we want some nature. Ok, done: here's a reservation for a yurt at the Nickerson State Park in the middle of Cape Cod. Four beautiful lakes, serene forest, great place to rest. So why yurt, why not tent - would you ask? Oh, well, I have this little complication - two little kids. Either we're too lazy, or the kids are so special, but the tent doesn't work, no way. They need to sleep in bed, and in two separate ones.
But turned out, that's not the end of the story. Turned out, spoiled little bastards also need to sleep in warm beds. Who whould think?! Well, we would. We were seriously worried about it when we first set out to travel along the coast of Oregon and California (with only one kid at the time), but it turned out ok: every yurt/cabin/whatever they have on the West Coast has a heater inside. Of course, you're not allowed to bring your own heater (fire safety, you know), but the existing one works pretty good.
Well, not in Massachusetts. Why am I not surprised anymore? Must be a bad sign... In the great Nickerson State Park, there are no heaters in the yurts. And yes, you can bring your own one, but wait, you must be careful, because circuit breakers are for 15 amps, and there is no way to turn them back on in the middle of the night, because they're locked. And even if they weren't, what's the point anyway? What are you going to heat with a 15-amp heater? (still, could be better than nothing). And it turned out that this is actually not the worst it can get! Because in the equally great Otter River State Park (where we had another reservation, which we had to cancel) there are also no heaters, but you're also not allowed to bring your own. A warm welcome!
This little cold fact is especially amazing when you consider the climate difference: there's never snow in Oregon and California, while Massachusetts has full-blown Russian-style winters.
The construction of the yurt didn't help much either. You see, these yurts are pretty clever things. Basically, a yurt is a round wooden frame with tarp cover pulled around it. Kind of like a traveling circus, only smaller. And that round "tarp cover" is not just a piece of tarp. It has windows. The windows are fine mesh, so that you can see through them and the air flows freely. If you don't want the sun coming in, there are blinds that you can lower from the outside. But the air is still flowing. And if you don't want it to (because it's too cold, for example), there are also transparent film blinds from the inside that can be attached to the windows with velcro. Well, in good parks that is. Not in the great Nickerson State Park of Massachusetts. You see, in order to be able to attach the film to the cover, there must be an opening in the wooden frame that gives access to the window. And everywhere in Oregon and California where we were, there is. But not in the great Nickerson State Park of Massachusetts.
Anyway, somehow we managed to put the kids to sleep, wrapped in several layers of clothes, and then went to sleep ourselves. Not for long though - in the middle of the night, the nature took over and I had to step out for a minute. But the yurt's door was of a different opinion. The deadbolt that we've locked ourselves with wouldn't open. (a deadbolt is always a good idea: while I'm not overly sensitive about being eaten by a bear, I would probably be pissed off if the bear preferred one of my kids). A later investigation showed that while turning the knob clockwise caused the deadbolt to go out of the door, turning it counterclockwise did not result in full retraction of the damn thing. Surprise! After a very frustrating 30-minute struggle, I just had to kick the door open.
And in the morning... When you're in a forest, near a lake, far from civilization (well, as far as it gets in Massachusetts, anyway), what usually wakes you up in the morning? A bird chirp... A sun ray... A gentle breeze... And a concrete mixer, of course! Turns out, another yurt was being constructed at the site just next to ours, and this was just the day they were pouring concrete for foundation. And naturally, they started at 7am. Because nothing helps with hard work better than angry neighbors. I guess it's a good thing that the rangers managed to warn us about it in advance... Oh, wait a minute, they actually didn't! I guess it's a bad thing then...
As we were driving out of there in frustration, taking a last look at the park map, we've noticed the word "Playground". "Oh, good," - we thought naively, - "at least we'll let the kids run around for a bit."
Lo and behold! Here's the great Nickerson State Park Playground:
Oh, and the best part: Alcohol is strictly prohibited in all Massachusetts parks.
Happy camping!
Here's how a typical morning of a backpacker looks.
You wake up about an hour before the rest of the team, get out of the tent, find your boots and start hitting them with the reverse side of an axe until they become soft and flexible again. Then you put them on, turn the axe around, and set off to find some firewood. Firewood grows in abundance around the camp, but you have to watch out for forest rangers, who have this silly affection for all living things, including trees, but excluding freezing backpackers. After you have enough firewood, you start a fire. And that usually comes just in time to save your fingers from freezing off. Once your fingers are ok, you take the can and go to find some water. If you're lucky, you go to a nearby spring or village well, otherwise you just melt some snow. And finally, when you have water and fire, you can start cooking.
(All that, of course, if you have the misfortune to be on duty on that particular day. Otherwise, you wake up comfortably with a fire ready, breakfast cooked, and your boots thawed for you)
Anyway, what was I getting at? Oh, right! Please don't take the below rant as "another fat, bald, middle-aged american who is unable to spend a day outside of his air-conditioned car or cushy couch". Yes, I'm fat and middle-aged (not bald, though - thanks to The Ultimate Hairdresser up there), but I'm more than able to pull off that trick. And I don't have a cushy couch.
Once upon a time, we have decided that city life is ok, but we want some nature. Ok, done: here's a reservation for a yurt at the Nickerson State Park in the middle of Cape Cod. Four beautiful lakes, serene forest, great place to rest. So why yurt, why not tent - would you ask? Oh, well, I have this little complication - two little kids. Either we're too lazy, or the kids are so special, but the tent doesn't work, no way. They need to sleep in bed, and in two separate ones.
But turned out, that's not the end of the story. Turned out, spoiled little bastards also need to sleep in warm beds. Who whould think?! Well, we would. We were seriously worried about it when we first set out to travel along the coast of Oregon and California (with only one kid at the time), but it turned out ok: every yurt/cabin/whatever they have on the West Coast has a heater inside. Of course, you're not allowed to bring your own heater (fire safety, you know), but the existing one works pretty good.
Well, not in Massachusetts. Why am I not surprised anymore? Must be a bad sign... In the great Nickerson State Park, there are no heaters in the yurts. And yes, you can bring your own one, but wait, you must be careful, because circuit breakers are for 15 amps, and there is no way to turn them back on in the middle of the night, because they're locked. And even if they weren't, what's the point anyway? What are you going to heat with a 15-amp heater? (still, could be better than nothing). And it turned out that this is actually not the worst it can get! Because in the equally great Otter River State Park (where we had another reservation, which we had to cancel) there are also no heaters, but you're also not allowed to bring your own. A warm welcome!
This little cold fact is especially amazing when you consider the climate difference: there's never snow in Oregon and California, while Massachusetts has full-blown Russian-style winters.
The construction of the yurt didn't help much either. You see, these yurts are pretty clever things. Basically, a yurt is a round wooden frame with tarp cover pulled around it. Kind of like a traveling circus, only smaller. And that round "tarp cover" is not just a piece of tarp. It has windows. The windows are fine mesh, so that you can see through them and the air flows freely. If you don't want the sun coming in, there are blinds that you can lower from the outside. But the air is still flowing. And if you don't want it to (because it's too cold, for example), there are also transparent film blinds from the inside that can be attached to the windows with velcro. Well, in good parks that is. Not in the great Nickerson State Park of Massachusetts. You see, in order to be able to attach the film to the cover, there must be an opening in the wooden frame that gives access to the window. And everywhere in Oregon and California where we were, there is. But not in the great Nickerson State Park of Massachusetts.
Anyway, somehow we managed to put the kids to sleep, wrapped in several layers of clothes, and then went to sleep ourselves. Not for long though - in the middle of the night, the nature took over and I had to step out for a minute. But the yurt's door was of a different opinion. The deadbolt that we've locked ourselves with wouldn't open. (a deadbolt is always a good idea: while I'm not overly sensitive about being eaten by a bear, I would probably be pissed off if the bear preferred one of my kids). A later investigation showed that while turning the knob clockwise caused the deadbolt to go out of the door, turning it counterclockwise did not result in full retraction of the damn thing. Surprise! After a very frustrating 30-minute struggle, I just had to kick the door open.
And in the morning... When you're in a forest, near a lake, far from civilization (well, as far as it gets in Massachusetts, anyway), what usually wakes you up in the morning? A bird chirp... A sun ray... A gentle breeze... And a concrete mixer, of course! Turns out, another yurt was being constructed at the site just next to ours, and this was just the day they were pouring concrete for foundation. And naturally, they started at 7am. Because nothing helps with hard work better than angry neighbors. I guess it's a good thing that the rangers managed to warn us about it in advance... Oh, wait a minute, they actually didn't! I guess it's a bad thing then...
As we were driving out of there in frustration, taking a last look at the park map, we've noticed the word "Playground". "Oh, good," - we thought naively, - "at least we'll let the kids run around for a bit."
Lo and behold! Here's the great Nickerson State Park Playground:
Oh, and the best part: Alcohol is strictly prohibited in all Massachusetts parks.
Happy camping!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Drink it up!
The city of Kirkland, WA (along with several other nearby cities) prides itself on the quality of tap water. "You can even drink the water right out of your faucet" - they say in their newsletter. "So what?" - I always thought to myself, - "This is OK water, nothing particularly great... Not like it's some kind of mineral spring miracle water, right? And besides, I always used to drink water right out of the faucet, what's so special about that?"
Well, as it is becoming more and more of a tradition, I was dead wrong about that. Turns out, it is pretty special. Turns out, that really was great tap water.
The best way to get rid of naïve illusions? Just drink from a Boston faucet! Wait, what the heck am I talking about?! You don't even have to drink (might actually be dangerous) - just smell it.
No, really. The tap water in Boston smells like garbage. And I'm not exaggerating here: it really, really, smells exactly like the inside of my kitchen trash can (and for those in doubt, I'd clarify: the trash can itself is located on the other side of the kitchen - farthest from the sink).
We actually have a water filter installed (a good one, not that junk type that you screw on the end of your faucet), and I'm used to put a couple drops of lemon juice in my water glass, but even these measures don't eliminate the smell completely.
Yes, I've heard that story about old pipes, most of which are leaking, and it's very expensive to replace them, but they're still doing their best, blah-blah-blah... But wait a minute! Ok, the pipes are old. And leaking. But I still don't see where the trash smell would come from. Is it that all the good smell is leaking out of old pipes, and only the bad smell stays in, just to spoil our lives, because, you know, it's just bad? Or is it that somehow something external is leaking into the pipes? Well, that external stuff must be under a lot of pressure then: you know, the water in the pipes is under pressure, so you have to have even greater pressure to sneak something in.
And speaking about the old pipes. Just about a week ago, one of those broke down. A big one. Or, to say it more precisely, the big one. The pipe in the city of Weston that all the water for the eastern Massachusetts goes through. That includes Boston, Brookline, Newton, Cambridge, and a couple dozens other cities.
[Update: according to a nice anonymous commenter, Cambridge was not affected. It has it's own water supply]
Of course, in the richest country in the world, in the most "for-the-people-by-the-people" state in that country, there must be a back up. Some kind of reserve, just for this kind of situation. And there was, of course, mind you. But guess what? Not for drinking. So the Water and Sewer Commission has issued a "boil order" - that is, all the good people of eastern Massachusetts, please be so kind and boil your water before drinking, while we're trying to clean up the mess. And for the whole week (there was apparently no way to fix it quicker than that), all the good people of eastern Massachusetts were boiling their water and saving it in pans and pitchers to cool down - because, just coincidentally, this turned out to be some of the unusually hot days for this time of year, so nobody wanted to drink it hot.
A quick side note: some of the Starbucks coffee shops that I've happened to come by were closed, with a note on their doors saying: "We're sorry, but our corporate office ordered us to close due to water pipe break". Poor Seattle-based Starbucks corporation, scared to death by some minor disturbance like this. It sits on it's clean water supply and just doesn't know what the real life is, apparently.
Well, as it is becoming more and more of a tradition, I was dead wrong about that. Turns out, it is pretty special. Turns out, that really was great tap water.
The best way to get rid of naïve illusions? Just drink from a Boston faucet! Wait, what the heck am I talking about?! You don't even have to drink (might actually be dangerous) - just smell it.
No, really. The tap water in Boston smells like garbage. And I'm not exaggerating here: it really, really, smells exactly like the inside of my kitchen trash can (and for those in doubt, I'd clarify: the trash can itself is located on the other side of the kitchen - farthest from the sink).
We actually have a water filter installed (a good one, not that junk type that you screw on the end of your faucet), and I'm used to put a couple drops of lemon juice in my water glass, but even these measures don't eliminate the smell completely.
Yes, I've heard that story about old pipes, most of which are leaking, and it's very expensive to replace them, but they're still doing their best, blah-blah-blah... But wait a minute! Ok, the pipes are old. And leaking. But I still don't see where the trash smell would come from. Is it that all the good smell is leaking out of old pipes, and only the bad smell stays in, just to spoil our lives, because, you know, it's just bad? Or is it that somehow something external is leaking into the pipes? Well, that external stuff must be under a lot of pressure then: you know, the water in the pipes is under pressure, so you have to have even greater pressure to sneak something in.
And speaking about the old pipes. Just about a week ago, one of those broke down. A big one. Or, to say it more precisely, the big one. The pipe in the city of Weston that all the water for the eastern Massachusetts goes through. That includes Boston, Brookline, Newton, Cambridge, and a couple dozens other cities.
[Update: according to a nice anonymous commenter, Cambridge was not affected. It has it's own water supply]
Of course, in the richest country in the world, in the most "for-the-people-by-the-people" state in that country, there must be a back up. Some kind of reserve, just for this kind of situation. And there was, of course, mind you. But guess what? Not for drinking. So the Water and Sewer Commission has issued a "boil order" - that is, all the good people of eastern Massachusetts, please be so kind and boil your water before drinking, while we're trying to clean up the mess. And for the whole week (there was apparently no way to fix it quicker than that), all the good people of eastern Massachusetts were boiling their water and saving it in pans and pitchers to cool down - because, just coincidentally, this turned out to be some of the unusually hot days for this time of year, so nobody wanted to drink it hot.
A quick side note: some of the Starbucks coffee shops that I've happened to come by were closed, with a note on their doors saying: "We're sorry, but our corporate office ordered us to close due to water pipe break". Poor Seattle-based Starbucks corporation, scared to death by some minor disturbance like this. It sits on it's clean water supply and just doesn't know what the real life is, apparently.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Car robbery: sad and even sadder
Imagine your car was broken into. Happens a lot in Boston: a big city, high crime rate, whatcha gonna do? Actually, to think about it, pretty amazing thing, considering the hoards of police officers I see around...
But anyway, say your car was broken into. And you weren't around, of course, because if you were, it wouldn't have happened in the first place... I hope so at least :-)
The glass is broken, the recently installed $500 radio is missing, and the mess of wires hangs out of the dashboard, sadly reminding of the great days of great music that are to be no more. And the dashboard itself is probably damaged beyond repair as well.
Sad. Annoying. Expensive (unless your insurance is really nice).
But prepare to become even sadder, more annoyed, and bear more expenses! Because, chances are, now you also owe a hundred or two to the local impound shop.
WTF?! Turns out, if a police officer walks down the street and finds a car with a broken window, missing windshield, broken door lock, or whatever else evidence of recent robbery, he may, at his discretion (meaning, he can, but does not have to), order the car impounded to by the local city-contracted impound shop.
Nice service, I guess... You know, just to keep the car from more vandalism and preserve the nice street appearance...
But here's the bummer: you pay.
Not only doesn't the city help you to get out of the mess, but it also kicks you in the groin once more, just to make sure you're really in pain.
Once again: nice job keeping people safe and comfortable. Real Common Wealth, Massachusetts. Bravo!
But anyway, say your car was broken into. And you weren't around, of course, because if you were, it wouldn't have happened in the first place... I hope so at least :-)
The glass is broken, the recently installed $500 radio is missing, and the mess of wires hangs out of the dashboard, sadly reminding of the great days of great music that are to be no more. And the dashboard itself is probably damaged beyond repair as well.
Sad. Annoying. Expensive (unless your insurance is really nice).
But prepare to become even sadder, more annoyed, and bear more expenses! Because, chances are, now you also owe a hundred or two to the local impound shop.
WTF?! Turns out, if a police officer walks down the street and finds a car with a broken window, missing windshield, broken door lock, or whatever else evidence of recent robbery, he may, at his discretion (meaning, he can, but does not have to), order the car impounded to by the local city-contracted impound shop.
Nice service, I guess... You know, just to keep the car from more vandalism and preserve the nice street appearance...
But here's the bummer: you pay.
Not only doesn't the city help you to get out of the mess, but it also kicks you in the groin once more, just to make sure you're really in pain.
Once again: nice job keeping people safe and comfortable. Real Common Wealth, Massachusetts. Bravo!
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