Perhaps I would be ticketed here as well, and her look said as much, but I thought the odds were less than the management of the yacht club calling a towing service on me. I sat there for a moment, ruminating, remembered she’s smarter than I am, then put the car back in reverse and pulled back out onto the street, finding a spot to pull over onto the side. Probably at least in part because it was my car after all, and if I got ticketed or towed, I would be the one paying. “It’s Sunday, there’s snow on the ground and no one is around but the hired help,” I replied. Not to mention it’s a Beetle,” she pointed out. “Your car only has two hubcaps and your front license plate is held on by picture wire. “But I figure that no one will notice if we’re just parked here for a bit.” True to form, as I pulled into the parking lot of the yacht club, her eyebrow arched. So we were driving along Harbor Road in Huntington Harbor, and Miss Bronwen was eyeing me suspiciously.
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