Having a car in Ithaca–but no parking space–means countless drives up and down the streets of Collegetown, trolling for available spots. One dreary afternoon last winter, I was cruising the streets when I discovered a vacant spot across from my apartment. After I’d parked, I realized that my rear bumper extended slightly into the adjacent driveway, but there was more than enough room for a car to get in or out. At least, that was my wishful thinking, fueled by my desire to avoid looking for something more spacious.
The next morning, I glanced out my window to check the weather. Would I have to wear my knee-length down jacket, or could I get away with a T-shirt? (This question pretty much sums up Ithaca weather.) I discovered, with a sinking heart, that it was “Ithacating,” a term that describes a mix of rain, sleet, and snow. I also saw that my car wasn’t where I’d left it.
My car is a Honda Civic, in a beige color ubiquitous to retirement home parking lots. I had been parked behind a BMW, which was still there, so I could rule out theft. Realizing what must have happened, I Googled “What do I do when my car gets towed?” “Li’l Thug” on Yahoo! Answers advised me to call the local traffic bureau, which I did. Five calls and two holds later, I discovered that my car had been towed for blocking a driveway. I could pick it up with $200 in cash to cover the towing fee and parking ticket.
After classes, my friend and I pulled up to the towing lot, and I saw my car in the back. As I stared at it through the chain-link fence, I felt sure I was experiencing the shame that TV parents go through when they bail out a child who has been arrested for shoplifting or smoking pot. “How could my car have done this?” I thought angrily. “I should leave it there to think about the consequences of its actions.” But I just paid the man who unlocked the gates. It had stopped Ithacating, and the sun was peeking through the clouds. While the day had been stressful, at least my car and I were reunited.
While I can’t claim that I learned from the experience—I got three more parking tickets afterward—it has allowed me to commiserate with others who have found themselves in similar situations. When the subject came up in the Cornell Alumni Magazine offices, my fellow intern Nick told me that his car had been towed as he ran up to his room to print his resume, less than an hour before an interview—his CAM interview, no less. And when a friend’s car was towed from College Avenue on Slope Day, I had the numbers for both the Ithaca Traffic Bureau and the towing lot stored on my phone, ready to share.
This summer, thankfully, I have my own parking space, so my days of scouring for spots and paying parking tickets are over. At least for now.
— Maya Rajamani ’12