My car spent a night in the slammer

If 7-Eleven didn't sale Slurpees, I'd be wishing Chapter 11 bankruptcy on them. They're just too dang uptight about parking.

The other day I met my boss at a nearby convenience store. We were car pooling, and my car was left behind in the parking lot. Little did I know, 7-Eleven has a deal with the devil on parking; the devil in this case being Discount Towing.

Here's how it works: Discount Towing drives around arbitrarily, keeping tabs on how long cars are parked in the various locations they oversee. When a car has been vacated longer than it should take for someone to go inside for a Coke and a churro, they make their move.

Hence, when I came back to 7-Eleven to get my car two hours later, it was gone. I found Discount Towing's phone number on the side of the building, then called and asked the weasel that answered where my car was.

Here's the gist of what I found out: my car was in an impound yard 13 miles away; I could get my car out that night, but I needed to bring $271, cash.

"So... why exactly are you called Discount Towing?" I asked, before ending the phone conversation. The crook didn't appreciate my sarcasm and hung up. Too bad he hadn't a clue who he was dealing with, i.e., one of the cheapest persons on earth.

My boss drove me to the impound yard, where I planned on negotiating the rate down (on the way there I called some other towing companies to see what they charged, and found I was getting raked over the coals).

Discount Towing was located in the shady part of town, not far from smoke shops, gentleman's clubs, and a KFC restaurant.

If you've never been to an impound yard, know that "prison yard" and "impound yard" have a lot more in common than just "yard." This dump had it all: rottweilers, barbed wire, mean guys that looked like they ate babies. What the attendants lacked in teeth they made up for in tattoos.

Negotiations with the crook didn't go well. In fact, I ticked Mr. Discount Towing right off. The thing that's tough about wheelin'-and-dealin' with a guy that has your car locked up is, well, he has your car. I eventually offered $190, but he wouldn't bend.

He was stuck at $271, cash, and I had no leverage. In one last attempt I asked if he wanted to arm wrestle for the car, and again, my sarcasm wasn't appreciated. Not even a little. I told him I'd be back in the morning for round two. I had to--I didn't have $271 on me.

I went home that night, without my car, and studied the state towing codes up and down. I found out what they could charge and what they couldn't. I was ready for round two.

I couldn't help but worry about my car, though. As mad as I made the crook, I figured he was out vandalizing my car that evening--rolling it over and slashing the tires. What worried me most was that I didn't lock my car when I left 7-Eleven (the door locks don't really work).

I started thinking of all the valuables I had in my car, but after listing them off in my mind (a pack of David sunflower seeds, a book on tape from the library, Altoids, a Sacajawea dollar) I returned to worrying about the slashed tires, rather than burglary.

I was back at the impound yard before noon the next day. After looking through the fencing and spotting my car, still in one piece, I marched confidently towards the crook's office. I had spent the morning talking to the folks at the DMV and the state tax commission, and I had a case.

With Eye of the Tiger playing in my head, I confronted the crook with everything I had. I even got him on the phone with a lady from the state. After all was said and done we settled at $163. Not a knockout, but still a win.

As I followed him to my car we passed a smashed circuit board (one of the many pieces of garbage scattered around the place) laying on the ground. I turned and joked "hey, that's my car stereo!" Again the crook was in no mood for small talk, especially since he could've had $190 the night before.