Getting In & Out of Dodge

I'd been parked in a preferred spot -- one that's unmetered and not subject to the two-hour limit, except for immediate residents that have stickers allowing them full, ongoing access. The default limit for others is 72 hours, which sometimes gets exceeded since who's keeping track that closely?

Well, someone might. A neighbor that would like to use the spot, instead, for instance. Or the local "parking patrol" folks wanting to make a quota. Or even the local cops that figure someone might be illegally living there. Especially when the Powers That Be in town are in one of their Sweep 'Em Out campaigns. And, lately, it could seem that this has been the case.

I got the word last night, from an acquaintance that keeps very late/early hours, that he'd seen a patrol cop at the rig, shining his flashlight in and knocking on it. At around 5am.

Earlier in the eve before, I was thinking about what it's like to turn in to try to go to sleep. In that hood, there's commonly drunken students out and about, even pretty late. And so there were. A gang of young bucks hooting and hollering in inebriated hooligan mode.

One has to somehow tune that out -- even though they're... right there. Right out there. And one ear needs to stay tuned to certain kinds of sounds. Anything telltale, like messing with the bike or rig. Same thing with sensing kinetic activity. But ya' can't stay too alert, since that foils sleep.

Just so, anyone else that might come by and "intrude."

Discovering that our diligent officers are keenly tending to "protect and serve" the public in the wee hours (and they so typically pick some of the worst) like that, I was glad to get an invite to go visit with a very good friend that asked me over. And several towns away.

Time for another break. On several scores. So I'm outa' Dodge, for the time being.