In a day of bad news, yesterday had one bright spot: a neighbor notified us that our petition for residential parking permits had been approved.
This is a pretty live-and-let live (or park) neighborhood, and we were reluctant to go the official root. But like so many other neighborhoods, this one has become hard-fought turf in the Denver parking wars as bar-goers battle for spots at night, office workers vie for free spaces in the day, Bronco fans occasionally score slots, and somewhere in between, residents with no alleys behind their houses (as well as no driveways and no garages) are supposed to stash their own cars.
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SHOW ME HOW
Which, in my case last night, was right by the alley that dead-ends at my street.
Too right by, according to the parking ticket I found tucked into my car door this morning. My bumper is apparently within the sacred seventeen-inch space leading to the alley into which my car part may intrude. But it was this, or a long walk in the cold. I'll be out there with a yardstick once it's light -- and then it's off to the parking ticket referee, who long ago tired of my tales.
That residential parking permit is suddenly looking good. -- Patricia Calhoun