- One
fine day
-
- Last
Friday, getting into my car after leaving my office, I noticed a little pink
slip on my window shield. Much as I hate getting leaflets from take aways
and gymnasiums stuck onto my car, this time I was really hoping that someone
was offering me an extra order of fries or a month’s membership at half
price. But I feared the worst…something more expensive than a doner and even
less digestible.
-
- Sadly,
my fears were well founded. The pink slip was, as you’ve no doubt already
guessed, a traffic fine. The little slip of paper noted that I was parked on
the pavement. This was, sadly, true. Two of my four wheels were on the
pavement. I know, I should be ashamed of myself. Though I think most
Cypriots would ask: “But isn’t that how you’re supposed to park?”
-
- Let me
explain. Something that I find almost as annoying as receiving a fine is
driving aimlessly for twenty minutes trying to park within walking distance
of my office. I try every little side road, to no avail, before plonking my
car wherever I find. But with streets being narrow and with some drivers in
Cyprus lacking somewhat in distance perception skills, I need to get my car
out of harm’s way. This means having to place half my car on the pavement,
meaning that only half of it can be smashed up by a passing car, in the way
my father’s was last year.
-
- More
recently, my mother’s side mirror was smashed by a careless driver. She told
me of how, in the old days, many cars didn’t have side mirrors. People back
then would simply stick their head out and look behind them. This is simply
not possible today unless death by decapitation is your thing. Sadly, even
if it is, you can only get to do it once.
-
- To
anyone who might think that parking my car means that passers-by can’t walk
on the pavement I say fiddlesticks (preferably expensive Italian ones). The
potholes and cracks and trees that are already there have ensured that no
one can walk down our pavements. If anything, it is safer to walk on the
roads- certainly, there are fewer potholes.
-
- I don’t
enjoy getting a fine for parking outside my office, where there is no
double yellow line (or even a single yellow line), then driving home and
having some idiot block me by going the wrong way down a one way street or
having someone cut across in front of me on the right turn lane then
deciding to go left just when the green arrow lights up. Why don’t they fine
these people? Why don’t they fine all those kids who tune their motorbikes
so that when the engine is revved it sounds like an industrial strength
pneumatic drill is boring a hole through the side of my head?
-
- Equally,
I would like to know where I am expected to park in a town without parking
spaces. Shops and restaurants which should provide parking for their
customers do not. Office blocks have underground parking areas, but many of
these have been converted into gyms (yep, the ones that put little flyers on
my car). This means that people invariably park outside my office, or
outside my house, or in the middle of the road, or on the pavement, the
zebra crossing or on the roundabout (although that looked like it was an
accident). It means that I have to circle around my office for nearly half
an hour before I see a parking space, or before I see a parking space being
taken up by someone (if that was you and I cursed you, I’m sorry. Don’t take
it personally- recently I have a lot of pent-up anger coming out). And then
I decide to take my chance. If I’m unlucky and a policeman passes, I’ll
invariably get fined.
-
- So I’ve
given up. I’m simply working on things I can tell the traffic wardens when
they begin to write me up. Good things might include “There goes my charity
budget for the whole week” and “Didn’t I see you at a family reunion
lately?”. Bad things could include “Can I have the fine in a colour that
doesn’t clash with my car?”
