Nothing makes my blood boil quicker than to see a perfectly able bodied person pull into a disabled car parking space and bound into the shopping centre.
It’s about time the fines reflected the severity of the offence.
That being said, a number of years ago I was the offender.
I was heading home from Channel 7 after the news one night and got the call “we’re out of bread.”
Standard procedure was to drop into the supermarket on O’Connell street, North Adelaide. Parking was convenient as there was a small car park between the supermarket and the Royal Oak hotel.
The spot was often very busy, so much so that they often had an attendant to help guide the orderly flow of traffic into and out of the car park.
As I turned into the car park it was apparent this was one of those busy nights, it was full, to over flowing.
It was then the attendant stepped out I front of me and pointed me in the direction of the disabled car park. “No mate, that’s for the disabled.” I said.
However, he was insistent. “It’ll be all right cobber, as long as you’re quick.”
I said I’d rather not, but he was insistent – “take the spot, your blocking traffic.”
So in I went, ran into the supermarket, bought my bread and was back at the car within minutes.
As I climbed into the car I could feel glaring eyes burning a hole through the back of my head. I turned to see an enraged woman in a car mouthing expletives at me.
I looked around for the parking attendant to help explain the situation but, surprise, surprise, he was no where to be seen.
“But the attendant told me it would be OK.” Didn’t carry any weight so all I could do was beat a hasty retreat, red faced and apologetic.
I never encountered that parking attendant again, maybe it was his last night on the job and he was out for a bit of mischief.
Needless to say I learned my lesson, that no matter what, a disabled car park is for the disabled, no-one else. No matter what any attendant or anyone else says.
Maybe that lady driver who cursed me so thoroughly all those years ago will read this and believe my story. If so, my confession won’t have been in vain.