Re Issues constitutional

The bad news is that CSB’s truck (performing valiantly as ever, delivering a chicken coop to Brooklyn) received not one but two tickets while parked overnight on the street.
The good news is that it is now possible to protest parking tickets on-line, thus obviating the lengthy trip into the city, the probable acquisition of yet another ticket, and the even lengthier wait in Traffic Court. I write as one not unacquainted with Traffic Court.
In case this happens to you, I thought you might like to see what I wrote, on CSB’s behalf, to the NYC Department of Finance, Parking and Vehicles Section, regarding our two (2) parking violations, which are not really parking violations but citations for an expired inspection sticker. But still, they carry a hefty fine.
I would like to have this violation dismissed because:
1. While my son-in-law was borrowing my truck, he parked it on the street and it was ticketed for an expired inspection sticker TWICE IN THE SPACE OF 32 MINUTES. This seems excessive. Also excessively punitive. Since there is no possible way the truck could have gotten inspected in 32 minutes, this perpetration of double jeopardy seems to be the linchpin of a transparent and craven policy by the Brooklyn police to target exurban vehicles to raise revenue for their city. I feel confident that there are several articles in the United States Constitution prohibiting this sort of targeted taxation without representation.
2. The truck was satisfactorily inspected immediately upon return to Hastings on Hudson, our bucolic home. I can supply a copy of this inspection, if you would like.

The Joan of Arc Park

First I abjectly failed what must surely be a litmus test for determining who is – or is not – a true New Yorker. I drove in town for a party and was extremely pleased with myself for having found a legal parking spot on Riverside in the high 90’s. (After a few lengthy sojourns at the Impound Lot on Pier 40, I now read the parking signs carefully, and repeatedly.)I backed in and did the parallel park dance (I may not be a certified urbanite, but my parallel parking is RAWTHER good.) when suddenly an SUV completes a U-turn and pulls along beside me and starts honking. I stare blankly. He lowers his windows and says some unfortunate things about my character. He claims that he had his eye on this space all along and who am I to steal it. I mention that I had not seen him, and by the way, didn’t he just pull a Uey? My character is further castigated.
But here is the insane part. I pulled out of the cozy space, and gave it to him.
I can’t explain this.
(If my one-legged Chilean psychiatrist were still alive, we could have a lovely time parsing the meaning of this. But he is not. I did, however, speak with a gentleman at the party in question who had an Argentinean psychiatrist with a shriveled arm. In both cases they were geniuses who spoke with thick accents.)

So you can imagine my delight when, after finding another parking space, I am walking down Riverside Drive and come upon the Joan of Arc Island. There is such a thing. (I am a Joan of Arc fan, and not because we have anything in common. I don’t ride horses, hear voices, or want to save the kingdom of France. But I admire her enormously. To prove it: my cup of tea is this very moment sitting on a Joan of Arc coaster.) High upon a Gothic pedestal is an equestrian statue of Joan of Arc. The horse’s right front leg is raised, presumably because she was injured but not killed in battle. The statue is by Anna Hyatt Huntington (1876-1973), an American sculptor who specialized in animals, and especially horses. Because Joan is atop the horse, which is atop the pedestal and also because it was nighttime, I could not make out Joan’s attire in any great detail. In fact, from my vantage point, what I could see most clearly were the horse’s testicles.

I plan to return with binoculars.

Joan of Arc would never, ever, have given up a legitimate, legal and well-deserved parking space.