Pulled the bakkie into a parking space this morning to quickly visit the bank. The parking bay was presided over by one of those old fashioned heavy gauge aluminium parking meters. I foraged in my wallet for a 20c piece, inserted it in the slot, and nothing happened. Immediately annoyed. I could see the coin sitting about an inch deep in the slot, where it got stuck. I gave the meter a polite slap to encourage the mechanism to loosen up and swallow properly. It didn’t. I then gave it a tap from the other side, hurting my fist. Still nothing. I then picked up a discarded match stick, and tried to work the coin into the meter. The match snapped off after a few seconds of effort. I thought, bugger it all, and crossed the street to go into the bank, with zero credits on the meter.
The poor state of municipal amenities and the injustice of it all was still fresh on my mind when, on returning to the bakkie, I saw a traffic officer penning away at her ticket book, some 3 parking spaces away from my own car. I quickly glanced at my windshield, but apparently I came off scott free. Still, because I like complaining when I have the moral high ground, I called her over and showed her the broken meter. How on earth, I demanded from her, can we be expected to pay for our parking spaces if the meters are in such a lamentable condition. Here I inserted a 20c piece, and nothing happened. Absolutely no credit was displayed in its little screen. What if I was issued a parking fine because of it? The traffic officer stooped a little, peered into the slot, turned the knob and walked away. I suddenly had four minutes to kill.
Rigil