Adventure Tourism Among The Wrecks

Apparently, you get McDonald's breakfast if you stay overnight in jail here in Ottawa. This is something I learned last night. I also learned that you need to take the drive-shaft off of a big a truck in order to tow it away. You can learn a lot of interesting things if you spend some time at a tow yard.

Yesterday afternoon I went over to the church to get the ownership papers out of our recently-purchased moving truck so that I could get a new temporary permit to take it down to a mechanic for an oil change and a quick inspection. The truck had been parked in the back of the church parking lot since we got the parking ticket for leaving it on the street overnight 10 days ago.

When I pulled into the lot, the truck wasn't there.

I knew right away that it had been towed, since there had been some confusion about the truck when I had parked it there for a few nights earlier in the month -- it looks more like a stray Torontonian supply truck than a moving truck, so people thought it looked suspicious. When I brought it back last week, I cleared it with a guy who helps take care of the building, so I thought I was safe. Apparently not.

Luckily, I have some experience getting cars back from tow lots because a friend of mine (let's call him Ben) had his rental car towed away from our condo parking lot for failing to park in a visitor stall when he was back visiting from England a year or two ago. In that case, we had to go to the police station to get a release form, because the towing company won't give you the car unless you can clearly prove ownership or present the release form. We learned all about the process at about 3am, as we were forced to visit both the police station and the towing company twice each, ultimately paying upwards of $200 in fines and charges.

The only way for me to prove ownership was to get a new copy of the sale agreement faxed to me from the dealership, because all my papers were sitting in the glove compartment (note to self: keep vehicle ownership in a safe place in future). I found out that the Ottawa Police had called the electric supply company who had previously owned the vehicle, who had in turn called the dealership I bought it from, giving them an earful for selling a truck that still had their logo and phone number on the side. The dealership then gave me an earful. I kind of wish I knew who had the truck towed away, because my ears are full and I would like to unload them.

I treated my brother to the vacation of his life as we toured the police station waiting room and then took a road trip 25 km out of town to the tow yard in Carp. As tour guides, we try to show something new to every visitor.

While I was inside the little trailer/office waiting for them to run a $280 charge on my credit card (ouch), I could hear a lively discussion in the next room held by two or three men and a woman -- ostensibly tow truck drivers waiting for a call. One man had gotten back recently from an overnight stint in jail and was giving some tips based on his experience. He mentioned that the police provide McDonald's breakfast in the morning, and he sounded quite pleased with the whole thing. Another guy chimed in and said that you also get a McDonald's combo meal if you get booked early enough in the evening. He seemed to know a lot more about life in the clink, because he had spent several weeks behind bars at one time or another. In fact, he once told his family not to bail him out at all because he thought the living was so good inside.

I got very little indication what crimes or charges had earned them their Big Macs and McMuffins, except that one guy had turned himself in for a violation of his probation. Thankfully, I eventually got my paperwork back and was free to take the truck away.

That's when I learned my second big lesson of the night.

I found the truck in the far end of the lot and started it up without a problem. But when I put it in gear, it wouldn't move. Drive, Reverse, First -- nothing worked. I started to freak out. Because of some lame miscommunication my truck had been towed and ruined. I had visions of my life tearing apart at the seams. I jumped out of the truck and looked at the undercarriage. Even in the darkness I could tell that the drive-shaft was missing.

Then I found it lying on the ground.

I could not imagine what they did to the truck to cause the drive-shaft to tear off on both ends. I pictured them dropping the truck from six feet up into the yard. Insanity licked at the edges of my mind and I started muttering to myself in disbelief mingled with rage.

I approached one of the story-telling men, who was now standing outside the trailer/office. He held up his hand with a quick warning, "Don't come too close, there's a guard dog in here." From a safe distance, I began telling him that the drive-shaft seemed to have come off in the process of towing. He quickly cut me off and explained that they disconnect the drive train as a standard procedure when towing vehicles like mine. Unfortunately, because of liability issues, they could not put it back on -- I would need a licensed mechanic.

I was at once relieved and bewildered. How was I supposed to get a mechanic to come all the way out here -- in the middle of nowhere, really -- to reassemble my drive-shaft at 10pm? I had to leave the truck there for another night. They gave me the number of a mechanic's shop 3 km from the yard who might come by and do the work for me. Just add it to the bill for the evening, I guess.

I think if I didn't have a blog to publicly announce this great misfortune, I would probably self-destruct. Thank you readers everywhere.