Bob the Towing Guy

I think it's high time that I share the story about Bob, the towing guy... Any account of my life would not be complete without it.

It was March 1, 2005. It was a chilly winter's day. When I returned home to my apartment after a long day of Nursing school clinical at Salt Lake Regional Hospital, I was all set to hurry down to my parent's house for a birthday party for my mom. After cleaning up and changing out of my scrubs, I went to get into my car. As I approached the driver's side door, I noticed an orange, metal boot on my tire. Huh, I thought to myself. They haven't been enforcing the parking rules for about 3 months now. Do they give no warning? I was at fault. My roommates and I had been passing around the parking decals b/c there were only 2 per apartment and we had 4 people living there and I didn't have one at the time. I had been parking in the upper lot since January and had yet to be booted, so I figured it was OK. It wasn't.

Usually a boot is accompanied by a friendly note that tells you who placed the boot, what the fine is to remove it, and how long it will be until they tow your car. Mine was just a boot... no note. I thought to myself, I wonder who I should call to get this boot removed ASAP so that I can get to my mom's birthday party. I wasn't very helpful in answering my own question, so I set out on a quest to find out who did the towing at my apartment complex. I walked down to the office, but they had weird hours and were not there. I looked at the message boards around the complex for clues, but came up with nothing. I called the HOA president to see if he knew who did the booting. He didn't. I knocked on random doors and asked if anyone in the whole entire complex knew which company was responsible for the boot on my car. I came up with nothing. Finally, I called the police. I asked if they had any ideas on how I could find out who put the boot on my car or if they could help me get it off. They couldn't. I was at my whit's end. I had already spent about 2 hours investigating and I still had nothing. Finally, one of my neighbors said that he had seen a sign in a very inconspicuous place in a dark hall that nobody ever walks down. Sure enough, the info of the towing company was on that flier. It was brown and wrinkled and I don't think anyone besides that particular neighbor had ever seen it.

I took the flier and called the number and Bob, the towing guy answered. I told him my situation and he said that it would cost me $80 to remove the boot. I tried to argue with him, telling him that he should reduce the price since he didn't leave a note and since it took me about 2&1/2 hours to get a hold of him. He said that he shouldn't have to leave a note, that I should intuitively know who the towing company in the area is. I asked him how I would know that. His real, true answer to my inquiry was, "Well I know who the towing company in your area is." That was it. I lost it and yelled into the phone, "BOB, YOU ARE THE TOWING GUY. OF COURSE YOU KNOW WHO THE TOWING COMPANY IN THE AREA IS!" I'm pretty sure that Bob was used to dealing with irate costumers because this did not even phase him. He told me that it was going to be $80 cash or he would have to come tow my car.

I don't know about you, but I don't usually have $80 cash on hand. I explained to Bob that since he wouldn't accept any other form of payment, I was going to need a ride to the ATM to get the cash since he had so kindly placed a boot on my car and I was unable to drive myself. I asked him if he would take me. He was kind of taken aback and paused before he replied, "sure, if you don't mind riding in a '59 Camaro." I assured him that I didn't. I paid him and we parted our separate ways.

And that's the story of Bob, the towing guy.