I have "DP" plates on my car (Washington State, "Disabled Person"), and I was also sent a little thingamabob to hang from the rear-view mirror if someone without DP plates is transporting me in their car.

One day a few years back I had a long lunch hour at work and it was a very nice day, so I stopped at a drive-in to pick up lunch, then drove out to Green Lake (north part of Seattle). I drove into the parking lot by the field house, and it was pretty parked up. But I knew there were two handicapped parking spots (sign at each of them with a blue wheelchair symbol) very near the path to the field house, so I drove there. One of the spots was taken. And I noticed that the car had neither DP plates, nor the little thingy hanging from the mirror. "Aha!" I thought.

I pulled into the other spot to eat lunch and calmly watch the antics of the ducks and geese that frequented the lake. I also noted two cormorants standing out on the swimming raft with their wings spread. They'd obviously been "fishing" and were drying their wings in the sun. I didn't know we had cormorants around here 'til then. But I kept a weather eye out in case someone with DP plates drove up (because I wasn't getting out and I really didn't need the parking place), and was prepared to start the engine, pull out, and let them have it.

After some time, two young guys, mid-twenties I would judge, walked up and got into the car parked in the handicapped space next to me. They were wearing sweats and running shoes, and had obviously been jogging the three+ miles around the lake. They looked at me. I looked at them. I gave them the fish-eye, but other than the occasional surreptitious glance, they studiously avoided looking in my direction. Then one of them reached in the back to pick up a couple of cans (Beer? Coke? Couldn't tell). As he did so, he noticed the police patrol scooter with meter maid aboard, driving through the lot and heading our way. Quick like a bunny, they started the car, pulled out, and headed swiftly out of the lot.

The meter maid noted my DP plates and pulled into the now empty spot. She stepped over to my car and I rolled down the window. Her eyes did a quick flick and she noticed the aluminum forearm crutches on the seat next to me, then asked. "Do you know how long that car was parked there?"

"No," I said, "but it was here when I arrived, and I've been here for close to half an hour."

"You saw them, then?"

"Yes. A couple of joggers."

She grimaced. "I saw the way they took off. Guys like that really make me mad! They think they're so damned smart, but they don't realize that just vacating the spot a few seconds before the law arrives isn't going to help them.   I got their license number as they drove out. In a few days, the owner of that car is going to get a nice fat ticket in the mail!"

"Excellent!" I grinned. "Just how fat will the ticket be?"

"Eighty-five dollars," she said.

That was a few years ago and 85 bucks would smart a bit more than it might today. But the fine has gone up since then.

We grinned and gave each other the "thumbs-up" sign. She got back on her scooter, I started my car (time to get back to the office), and we went our separate ways.

Don Firth