A few days ago I saw an ad about Subaru cars on TV, and it reminded me of a story from my life.
I then lived in Washington, I worked in Maryland, and my wife was in Washington.
and Georgetown. Georgetown is the same Washington Arbat with its surroundings.
The area is extremely noble and fashionable. Fig only where you will find a parking place there on a working day. I had to go to work with my wife. Luckily, almost in front of her building, a free place on the parking meter was found. I am there, of course, right away. But here, there are no small things with you. I turned my eyes, like no punitive suppositories. Papers with cash in the wallet spoke, and right across the road - a mobile barracks with nipples. Well, I’m there: “Friend!” – I say to the black boy-seller of clearly Ethiopian origin – “Change, oh, I need to feed the parking meter!” – I exchanged three dollars without questions, and I ran back.

Fucking there, I didn’t have time. I crossed the road, and my
"Corsica" has already made the ash, and the child is broader, the penalty is issued.

I immediately told him:

No need for a penalty! I’m parking now, here’s the day.
Swapping through the road!

What there. This two-cent African-American miracle wasn’t something I couldn’t answer, it didn’t even look at me. He looked through me and continued to write out the penalty.

Yes, I was not upset, well, the fine and the penalty. What do you do with the coins, put them in your pocket now, right? Looking around, I see five cars standing with a red flag on the parking meter. Well, I jump to her. By this time, the storm parking driver had already finished spelling over my car, struck my penalty ticket under the yard, crashed into his three-wheeled ashes (how didn’t I just squeeze it?) I spit to the next victim. Only I managed to catch him before, and this strange parking meter fed the quarters. This is where the penitent finally noticed me. Well, it’s gently said, what I noticed, in fact. He even stunned me from my arrogance. I looked around, his mouth shaken and asked (children, his harsh black... well, you know which, slang I in Russian will not pass, of course, but it sounded like this):

Are you a man, is it your car?
Uncle, not my own! And I smile to him in response like a fool.
I look at the sides.

Exactly, in fifteen meters another unnourished car driver stands. And I run to her. It was earlier than that fool. When he rolled up, I just struck three coins, and, without giving the man his mouth open, ran to the next potential victim. And I put her coin in the parking meter, and I smile to my ears. Guys, you would see a penalty in this moment. No, if it wasn’t in Georgetown, and it wasn’t in the daylight, I’t be afraid, but what? I sit, smile and wait for what he says.
I heard at his address about the following:

“You, sir, you are what you are, man, you are what you are, I’m here at work, sir.
Who are you, who are you, who are you, who are you, who are you, who are you?

My brother’s brains were cursed.

“I am walking here, uncle,” I say, “and I’m helping you work, coins.”
I put it in the parking lot so you don’t get overworked.

The man of his three-wheeled ashes tears, and very harshly ordered me:

“Stand here,” he said, and let him drum on the radio station.
The commander, no other.

I stand, of course, I am interested. At this time, the penalty man on his rod is about the following dialogue (sorry, I hardly heard the answers):

Jordan, I have a situation. A gentleman prevents me from working.
He throws coins into all unpaid parking spaces.
and beaver! Sheshshshshsh! Who is Shish? Shash... Shash...
He was fined for delayed parking.
The number of his car... the number of his car... the number of his car... the number of his car... the number of his car... the number of his car... the number of his car...
This is something, what to do next?
Shish... spoo... nahu... shish, right beevevevev...

The officer turns to me:

You have your rights, sir.
- What right, uncle, I am not driving now, but you why?
I have to make a report, you are preventing me from working sir. Your name!
“Vova,” I say, “my name is Vova, and I will not give you the right, maybe you will give them the right.”
Steal from me. You are not a policeman.
I will call the police now!
– Uncle, call, of course, it’s boring or...

I don’t know how long this foolish conversation would have continued, but then the girl, whispering, ran straight to us, more precisely to her car. In the situation she did not immediately understand, so rushed with requests to this, to the big:

Sorry, I’m leaving now, I’m just a minute late.
Don’t write out the penalty, please, I’m throwing the coin now.

And the girl was funny - a small, black-haired, cuddly obviously, and in general, selfish. She was talking to this chief of the parking meters, all the time jumping from her leg to her leg, obviously she has all her life.
Ego, what to take from it?

I intervened here:

“Wowa,” I say to her, “I’m called so, in the sense. About your car.
Don’t worry, I’ve given you a coin. Say, you have yourself too.
Are there coins? Hold here again, and in her palm her rest of her
I’m going to see, there are still unpaid car parks?
Throw them a coin, please, or I'm time, and uncle's all
There will be less work.

The girl immediately crossed everything, roasted, showed the penalty goat, and moved to the next car, the parkometer to feed. Well, I also left, I needed my wife.

Here is about advertising. The advertisement I saw recently was literally the same. There Subaru-Impreza was praised, in the sense that he who loves Impreza loves everyone who rides on the same. And the essence of the plot is prosthetic - the guy in front of the penalty feeds the parking meter, and as it turns out, not his car. He himself sits in his "Impreza", standing in a row, and turns. A feeding foreign car, of course, is also Impreza. The penalty, indeed, does not very well out of the script, only shakes the shoulder, and the roar crumbles.

I wonder, these Subaru advertisers themselves all drowned out of their fingers, or is it my tiny hooliganism became American folklore?