Mom cannot get up into my van, so I drive her car, which has a handicapped hang tag. When I schlepp Mom to doctors or the grocery store, I have no qualms about parking in handicapped spots – she has the tag to help her navigate more easily.
Now that mom is in rehab, I drive alone, back and forth, to visit. Sometimes I get an itch to create, and I stop at the fabric store. A few times I treat myself to dinner out. Mom is not in the car during these outings, yet I still slink into the handicapped spots. When driving the van, I park in the back of a parking lot and enjoy the walk, but, suddenly, I need to be up front. I deserve to be in the handicapped spot because the car has a sticker. Really? Then why does my conscience nag me repeatedly about parking in handicapped spaces when mom is not with me?
I know it doesn’t work that way. If I am shopping for Mom, as I did at a Walgreens, okay! Everywhere else, while driving alone, I am hogging a space that a truly handicapped person might need. Guilty, guilty, guilty of hang tag abuse. I wonder if this is a misdemeanor or felony? In an event, I will stop. I promise. It is just wrong. Right?
Just punishment?
I am not alone in the parking-in-handicapped-spaces scam. I learned this morning that anyone can buy a handicapped hang tag, online. They may not look exactly like the real thing, but with so many to choose from, anyone can get something like their own state tags. Here are a few I can buy:
I understand the temptation to buy a phony tag. In some places, the demand is not so high – often I see a half-dozen empty handicapped spaces in an otherwise full parking lot. In the big city, however, the spots fill up during the times I am out. As for me, though, I am reforming my habit and returning to decency. I don’t really own this town, even though I grew up here, I am not more special than anyone else who wants to park closer to the door.
