THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, June 14, 1994 TAG: 9406140340
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY SARAH HUNTLEY, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: 940614 LENGTH: NORFOLK
``I thought it was Bob, but I peeked out the window first to make sure it wasn't a lady,`` Kelly said.
{REST} It wasn't a lady, but it wasn't Bob, either. Three men in red and white work shirts stood outside Kelly's door on the 4700 block of Robin Hood Road on June 5 and stared back at his sopping, inquiring face.
Kelly's next guess was exterminators, but these men weren't after termites. They were after his ``babies'' - two rare 1972 Ford Mustangs in the midst of restoration plus a clunker Mustang Kelly planned to cannibalize for parts.
The men told vintage-car buff Kelly they were drivers from Tidewater Towing. Contracted by the city and authorized by the Health Department under a 1979 clear-a-wreck ordinance, they were there to haul away the two Mustangs, Kelly's pride and joy.
``Man, you take those cars - and I know this sounds shallow, but I'm serious - that's all I live for,'' Kelly said later. ``I never found a woman who would marry me, and I don't have any kids. Now they're taking my cars.''
Kelly's Mustangs were not on the street. They were in his fenced-in back yard under protective car covers that covered their rust and dirt.
``If the cars are on city streets or public places, I say tow 'em,'' Kelly said, as he stormed through Tidewater Towing's impoundment lot on Liberty Street Thursday. ``But this was my back yard. It's just crazy.''
Kelly can recite the serial number of each vehicle from memory.
``I know they are God-awful-looking, but when I've got those cars, I'm somebody,'' said Kelly, who estimates that his ``babies'' will be worth many thousands someday. Especially valuable is the red convertible with the sky blue top. Kelly paid $900 for this one, No. 41, he says, of a 50-car special order.
He sees past the Mustangs' rusting exteriors, beyond the cracking upholstery, through the lackluster windows. Even the missing engine, the strung-out headlights and the borrowed tire on the front of one of Kelly's cars don't faze him.
But all these things, and the fact that the vehicles were unregistered, uninspected and were missing parts, bothered health inspectors, who tagged them as a nuisance and a potential health hazard. They could easily become rat havens, inspectors say.
Pete Nicholas, the environmental health supervisor, confirmed that Kelly's cars had been identified by his department. When Kelly failed to respond to a notice mailed May 11, Nicholas' office put the Mustangs on the towing roster.
``This is a part of the city's effort to remove blight and those conditions that cause degradation of neighborhoods,'' Nicholas said. ``This is what the citizens of the city want. They want Norfolk cleaned up and all of these nuisance vehicles brought into compliance.''
The recent addition of a volunteer corps of inspectors has boosted enforcement of the local ordinance. Volunteers, who scour the city for junked vehicles, have tagged more than 1,380 cars since January.
Property boundaries, privacy fences, locked gates and brick walls won't keep the tow trucks at bay. To avoid problems, car enthusiasts must keep their non-registered vehicles with some missing parts in ``an enclosed area,'' Nicholas said. That means a garage.
Peeved car owners argue, however, that this is a well-intentioned ordinance gone awry. Clearing public spaces is one thing, they say. Snooping in people's yards and seizing their property without a court hearing is another.
Kelly's next-door neighbor, James Wilson, had stored his 1962 Buick under a car cover, behind a shed, in the corner of a yard surrounded by a privacy fence and protected by a watchdog. The Health Department tag team looked over a neighbor's fence and ordered the Wilsons to bring the car into compliance. When he ran out of time, Wilson decided to have the car towed away himself.
Kelly will pay nearly $300 in towing, storage and license fees to get two out of three of his Mustangs back. The convertible will be stored in a hastily erected garage in his back yard. Kelly won't say where he'll put the other.
The remaining Mustang will be auctioned by Tidewater Towing. If there is money left over after the towing company is reimbursed for its fees, the money will go into an escrow account for the city.
``I'm not afraid of burglars. I'm afraid of the city,'' Kelly boomed. ``It's rip-roarin' robbery, pure and simple.''
According to Nicholas, health inspectors have the right to look under car covers and conduct inspections on private property. Usually, though, they knock and seek permission.
``We don't climb over fences,'' Nicholas said. ``We have the authority, but we don't go through locked gates. We don't have the time.''
Somehow, though, a diligent inspector stuck an orange sticker on the antenna of Kelly's car.
``My gate was locked. Either they pole-vaulted or tunneled,'' Kelly said.
{KEYWORDS} CODE VIOLATION
by CNB