police car | car-towing experiences | officer

Sam and I walked up and down the street, hoping the thieves maybe just moved it. Then I saw the sign: Tow-Away Zone. From 4 p.m-6 p.m. or 3 p.m.-7 p.m. or 3 p.m.-2:59 p.m. I don't remember, exactly. But I do recall it was one of those now-you-can, now-you-can't kind of deals.

We trudged up the sidewalk, tired and sweaty in our swim trunks and T-shirts, carrying our towels, feeling vaguely like refugees. About half-way on the hike to our hotel I spotted a police car and flagged down its two officers to ask where towed cars are taken.

You're not going to believe what happened next. Amazingly, they didn't laugh, say "good luck, pal," and drive off. Friendly and sympathetic, they debated where my car might be. Eventually one turned and asked if we knew the license plate number so that he could radio it in and locate the vehicle that way.

I was stunned that this guy was going to so much trouble to find my car. Never in my many car-towing experiences had I seen anything like this. Must be a Canadian thing.

Before I could say anything, Sam reeled off the number.

This was getting freaky.

The officers located my car. "It's not far," said one. "A long walk or a short taxi ride."

A nearby towing lot? Everybody knows that towing lots are situated on the outskirts of the Twilight Zone.

The officer wrote down directions and the lot's phone number.

I felt like I was hallucinating. The officers had spent about 15 minutes helping me on a simple towing matter and now they were actually taking the time to fish for a piece of paper to write down directions and a phone number?

Where's the camera? I'm being set up, right?