For my second post in the “Why You Shouldn’t Leave Your Porsche With Me” series, travel with me about 10 years down the road. I’m now a married young man, who’s buddy LOVES Porsches. He owns a circa-1985 white 944, and has outfitted it with a massive subwoofer where the spare tire normally would be. I can’t tell you much about the car itself — engine size, turbo or not, interior color…anything lke that — but I remember an Alpine stereo, and a huge subwoofer. That and we spent many a day going way too fast in the car.
One summer day at Lake Billy Chinook, at the Cove Palisades State Park in Oregon, a buddy and I are charged with getting some extra supplies at the marina, on the other side of the Lake. Now, the lake is huge, and the roads are fairly steep, so the trip takes a little bit of time in any vehicle, but we are tossed the keys to the 944 and told to be careful. Since the buddy with the car is also my boss, I of course want to take care of his ride…and yet memories of that wild night with the 911 Targa also dance in the back of my head. But we refrain, and head straight to the marina for supplies.
The Cove in the summer gets pickin’ hot. In addition to being hot, the park is hugely popular, so parking in the marina lot is a hot commodity, and as we arrive we find no place to park the car, so we circle the lot a few times hoping to catch an open spot as someone vacates theirs. After trying this trick for a while we finally decide we’ll just park in a No Parking zone, run in, be quick, and get back out. Really, what’s going to happen at a State Park…and we’re driving a Porsche…no one’s going to mess with us, right?
We got hung up in the store, and on upon our return to the car (which had thankfully not been towed) we found a bright yellow envelope, with a nice ticket inside. Amazingly, the fine on the ticket was a whopping $100…for parking! We hop back in the car and start making the trip back around to the other side. From here out, the details are a little fuzzy…..
I can’t remember if we devised a plan NOT to say anything about the ticket, and figured we’d just pay it before our boss found out, or if we mentioned it and agreed to pay it, but then forgot…but somehow, well, we forgot. Whatever was the cause, the ticket doubled, and when THAT notice showed up, it didn’t go over well. We had blown our chance to make it right without involving our buddy, and now we all sat around a speaker phone trying to find someone on the other side of Oregon that could help us with the ticket.
Now, there is an unexpected happy ending to the story. Apparently, the State Police patrol the park, and hand out tickets, and even do a little bit of follow up on them, but they don’t handle the finances. The finances are handled by the local government, of which The Cove doesn’t seem to be a part of any. We finally found a helpful lady in our day of phone conferences who pointed out that while we may get another notice or two, nobody was actually going to track us down to make us pay…and we might as well just toss them when we get them.
I was a little nervous that a State Policeman would show up and tow the 944, and then we’d really be in a world of hurt, but ultimately, like the hot summer itself, the ticket and fine, just kind of faded away.
Rule # 2 about leaving your Porsche with me – nobody loves your Porsche like YOU do, and I’m irresponsible.