In college I “procured” a great deal of parking tickets.  I drove my parent’s old ’79 Pontiac Bonneville around campus.  The interior roof was caving in on the thing, so in a futile attempt I tried to pin up the felt with thumb tacks.  The car was also a tank.  A land yacht.  And -due to my college bank account- it was always running out of gas.  Often, friends of mine would pass by my campus only to see my car stalled up on an embankment with a sign in the windshield reading “out of gas.”  My college mates and I named the car, “NESSIE.”  Nessie stood for “necessita gasolina.”  Basically, the Spanish for, “Needs Gas.”     The parking ticket thing was ridiculous. …