On Saturday, I went with my brother-in-law, my nephew and my parents to the North American International Auto Show in Detroit.  The show itself was fun, but the most notable event occurred outside the show; in fact, though we visit the auto show every year, this experience was a first for us.

When we got to the city, we headed for the Cobo roof lot to see if they’d let us park there. But, as is exasperatingly typical, the roof lot was open only to monthly permit holders, so we began to look for alternatives. As we drove down a street near Cobo, we spotted a man with an orange flag. We paid our $10, found a spot and walked to the show.

After the show, we arrived at the parking lot only to find that the attendant was gone, and so was our minivan. The lot belonged to a church, and it turned out that the ersatz parking attendant was, in fact, an ordained scamster. We had been snookered by the common parking scam.

Oops.

The church building had helpful signs providing the phone number of the towing company charged with clearing the lot of unwanted guests; after calling the company to confirm their possession of our vehicle, we headed back to Cobo so my father could catch a cab.

The towing company lot was well outside downtown, actually past the old Tigers Stadium; those familiar with Detroit will know the general condition of the neighborhoods surrounding the old stadium. For those who don’t: it’s not good. Most would avoid the area. But my father didn’t have a choice, so while we waited at Cobo, off he went to Boulevard & Trumbull Towing (2411 Vinewood, Detroit, in case you ever mistake an orange flag for credibility).

When he arrived, the process did not begin well. As one might expect, they have to match the person to the vehicle; they do this by looking at the vehicle’s registration and proof of insurance. Why was this a problem? Well, as a Chrysler retiree, my father’s van is not a typical lease; thus, the registration and proof of insurance do not mention my father anywhere, instead listing DaimlerChrysler as the owner. Since my father’s name is not DaimlerChrysler, B&T was skeptical.

To connect my father to the van, B&T wanted him to obtain from Chrysler a signed, notarized document proclaimed my father to be the parent or legal guardian of that vehicle. With no idea of what number to call, and with the likelihood that no helpful person would be working at any relevant Chrysler offices on a Saturday, the situation did not look good.

After some verbal wrestling with B&T, my father realized there were potentially useful items in the van: a stack of service records from the local dealership, complete with his name and the van’s VIN. They retrieved the records from the van, and, very reluctantly, they agreed to accept them as proper identification.

But wait — there’s more!

In order to repay them for their noble act of rescuing his van from its rampant illegality, B&T wanted $192; naturally, he called upon the power of Visa to assuage the nobility of B&T. The clerk, most likely wondering what had given my father the idea that any piece of the process would be so easy, told him they would accept only cash.

Since my father is not the (crazy) type to carry $192 on a regular basis, he asked for the nearest ATM. There was good news and bad news: the good news was that there was an ATM only two and a half blocks away; the bad news was that they would not provide an armed escort for the walk there and back. In a decision we uninanimously applauded, he elected not to make the trip to that ATM. Instead, he called us.

As it happened, we were sitting just a few feet from one of the many ATMs in Cobo; we told my father we would extract the van’s bail money from that ATM and catch a cab to B&T. I genuflected at the altar of the ATM — twice, since the single transaction limit was $100 — and before long, we were on our way.

Once we arrived, we were able to empty our pockets and reclaim the van. We also saw another frustrated man trying to reclaim his car; in fact, he was in an even tighter spot. He had traveled from mid-Ohio, he was driving his father’s car — so his name wasn’t on the registration — and his father was on vacation in Florida. We held little hope for his reclaiming his father’s car that day.

Before long, our paperwork was finished. As we walked to the van, we spoke with one of the B&T drivers. He gave us two pieces of information:

• Many such parking scams are perpetrated by Detroit’s homeless; they steal flags from legitimate parking lots, wave a few cars into a private lot, pocket the money and walk to another lot. Rinse, repeat.
• During last year’s auto show, that B&T lot alone towed 165 vehicles.

In retrospect, we probably should have spotted the scam and moved to a legitimate public parking lot: he gave us nothing to put in our windshield to indicate that we had paid, and he displayed no city permit. Hindsight is a bit unfair; it’s too easy to look back and see what you should have noticed at the time. But we did miss the clues. Oh well. We will be wiser next time.

Finally, this experience prompted three questions:

• The police presence around Cobo was fairly heavy during the auto show. How much extra effort would it really take to crack down on this sort of scam? Could a few of those officers make an occasional pass through the area to check the legitimacy of orange flags on private lots? With just B&T towing 165 vehicles, it seems like a scam worth addressing. After all, Detroit is trying to polish its image — but do you think that frustrated man from Ohio is going to want to make a return visit?
• The church has a contract with B&T to tow unwanted cars from their lot; given their proximity to Cobo Hall and Joe Louis Arena, they must be familiar with having cars towed from their lot during major events. Could the church make some effort to prevent scammers from using their lot during such events? Even something as simple as to accompany the B&T signs with “NO EVENT PARKING” signs might be worthwhile.
• Can somebody please compel towing companies to accept credit cards in these situations?