Between the Lines -- Byron de Arakal

Recent days have found Costa Mesa swept up in a wind of fuss and

tumult over those rolling bread boxes we otherwise know as motor homes.

Weā€™ll get to the particulars of the plot in a moment. But for now, you

should know that the rancor in town over the subject has me thinking of

physics. Hang with me on this one for a moment.

Thereā€™s this quirky theory I have that reckons that all societies are

reigned by the same physical laws that hold court over mass and motion.

The nub of my theorem is this. The more people you have pitching a tent

in a community or state or nation, the more rules and regulations and

laws you need to keep the whole thing from spinning apart into something

resembling Somalia or a nursery school at snack time.

Now thereā€™s a downside to this that spooks me. Every new ordinance and

statute thatā€™s visited upon us means we lose another freedom, however

small. Some cherished liberty. Eventually -- and this is not good news,

folks -- Iā€™m thinking the weight of regulated behavior becomes so great

that the entire hamlet collapses in on itself like some cosmic black

hole. The implosion is so catastrophic -- in theory, anyway -- that not

even a Libertarian can escape it.

This dust-up over motor homes in Costa Mesa falls somewhere on this

theoretical continuum, I think. But if sane minds prevail, Iā€™m not sure

it has to. Hereā€™s what we have.

As the law currently occupies the books, itā€™s illegal in Costa Mesa to

dock a motor home of a certain size and dimension on a public street for

any time longer than 72 consecutive hours. But if weā€™re to believe the

majority on the City Council and a vague reference to ā€œnumerous

complaints from residentsā€ in a city staff report, the law is more often

scoffed at than followed.

It seems some undetermined number of RV owners run around the

ordinance by moving their land schooner a few feet every so many days.

The thinking of the scofflaws is, apparently, that the good men and women

of the Costa Mesa Police Department canā€™t know whether the offending

motor home has been driven 2 feet or 200 miles. Just to be sure, says the

departmentā€™s Lt. Karl Schuler, the offending RV rats like to cover their

odometers with a magazine or some such thing.

In recent months, itā€™s become clear that a fair legion of Costa Mesa

residents harbor a shared conviction that dormant RVs are the scourge of

the city. Among other things, they prevent the city from sweeping lengthy

chunks of the streets. Fair enough. I mean, Iā€™ve seen such a volume of

trash and other whatnot under one of these things that Iā€™d swear the box

had been parked there since Sputnik.

Some gripe that street-parked motor homes are a safety hazard, that

their girth is so great itā€™s impossible to see around them. Well, OK. But

it seems to me, one can back out of a driveway more slowly than what I

usually witness.

The more subjective beef is that RVs are a contemptible eyesore. This

oneā€™s often followed by a whispered prejudice that motor home owners are

more likely to raise chickens or make porn flicks in them than drive

them.

Having said all that, the physics of law has crept into this little

debate.

At its Jan. 7 gathering, the City Council noodled on a new ordinance

(more gravity) that would, essentially, ban motor homes from parking on

public streets for any length of time. The only exception is for a

24-hour period ā€œfor the purposes of loading, unloading, cleaning, battery

charging, or other activity preparatory or incidental to travel.ā€ Donā€™t

you just love code speak?

As an aside, Iā€™m not sure the law would be any more effective than the

one weā€™ve got. After all, the current crop of RV lawbreakers -- who are

spoiling the party for the vast majority of responsible coach owners in

town -- would find some way to be preparing for or cleaning up after a

perpetual trip to the Grand Canyon or French Lick, Ind.

Nevertheless, for guys such as Bill Folsom, who rents an apartment and

whose RV is his primary mode of getting to work and around town, the

proposed motor home clamp down would be akin to auto theft. And worse --

as I see it -- the loss of his freedom to choose his wheels. For others

who canā€™t afford the coin to store their fifth wheel elsewhere, it could

mean giving up the one and only form of affordable recreation.

And why? Because of some unquantifiable claim that ā€œthe parking of

recreation and oversized vehicles result in numerous complaints from

residents,ā€ as the city claims? Thatā€™s a bad reason to hatch a new law

that will significantly affect the lifestyle and quality of life of

mostly law-abiding, responsible motor home owners.

So rather than heap even more restrictive rules on our already

over-regulated township, why not give the current ordinance a bigger bat.

My suggestion? Keep the 72-hour rule in place. Push a few additional

words together that require the RV be moved at least a mile every three

days, and make it just shy of a felony to cover an automobileā€™s odometer.

Then hit the scofflaws in the wallet to the tune of about $500 for the

first offense, and a grand for each additional one.

Do this, and Iā€™m betting weā€™ll see fewer RV carcasses on our streets.

But even better, weā€™ll have postponed our dear little cityā€™s implosion

into the black hole.

* Byron de Arakal is a writer and communications consultant. He

resides in Costa Mesa. Readers can reach him with news tips and comments

via e-mail at o7 [email protected] .