Getting Towed Sucks
According to the woman, police said the temporary plates did not match her vehicle. But she said the officer had mistakenly typed in the wrong plate number.
She just bought the used, tan Jeep earlier this week but now it’s in the city auto pound. She has to pay $1,170 to get her car back.
“I want my car back,” she said. “This is my only way of getting to work, getting my kids to school. I need my vehicle.”
Cambray is a single mom with three kids and doesn’t have the money… A sergeant apologized for the mistake but told her she would have to pay the fee upfront and file a claim with the city to get reimbursed.
Chicago has the unique ability to tow anyone at any time. People want to add a 5th star to our flag for the Special Olympics. I say make it an even 6 and pay homage to the brave few keeping the lights on at city hall:
You now find yourself on the Chicago Streets & Sanitation Traffic Services webpage staring down the barrell of 700 poorly spaced words to better understand your situation:
It’s not. The next update is out and turns out the city does in fact have possession of your car.
There’s basically 4 places spread across the city they can take your car and they all suck. The most popularly hated auto pound is located on lower-lower-lower-wacker.
Once you arrive – either here or at the other locations – you’re going to be forced inside a trailer where you’ll encounter the only positive thing about getting towed. The A/C is fucking PUMPING inside. These trailers are basically meat lockers. 55 degrees and under. It’s remarkably refreshing.
You slide your ID under the glass. The Parking Professional opposite you is now filling out forms. Several forms. The ones with the carbon paper underneath which means don’t ever throw this out. Things are becoming complicated.
Is there a problem? You ask.
Her head stays buried in the now-growing stack of forms.
No problem almost finished.
*15 minutes later*
Okay your total comes to one thousand six hundred and forty five dollars and that’s due now.
I’m talking parking tickets for you and everyone you’ve ever loved. There’s no city sticker on your car. Your license is expired. Outstanding library fees and late Blockbuster returns from 1996 when you were just 7 years old. The fucking hen comes home to roost when you get towed in Chicago and it’s time to atone for your sins.
Nevermind your biweekly take home pay is ~ $1600 after standard payroll deductions. It’s time to pony up. You convince yourself that this horrible event will help you turn a corner and get your shit together. Never again you tell yourself. The situation is horrible but you’re slowly calming. You’ve got this.
Payment is processed and now you’re out on the lot tracking down the attendant to get your keys back. Naturally, he’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet. You think maybe in another world you could be friends but not today. Fuck this guy.
But damn was he polite.
Now with keys in hand you make it to your car, conveniently parked in the most remote corner of the fucking lot. Upon approach, you start to make out the image of something on your car windshield. It’s orange and white and only getting more clear as you get closer
Like I said, getting towed fucking blows.
PS – There are google reviews for city auto pounds. My favorite are the fair and balanced 3 stars