Since when did selling a battered pickup become a battle over the First Amendment?
Well, around the time Arvada’s Tom Wambolt decided to unload his son’s 1966 Ford truck – which, if you’re wondering, “is in good shape, though it needs a little work.”
Wambolt decided, as is American tradition, to place a “for sale” sign in the truck window. But these days, there is another American tradition: Adults must ask the government for permission.
Dutifully, Wambolt called Arvada City Hall. They directed him to the planning department.
Wambolt was then informed that an Arvada city ordinance prohibits parked vehicles from donning “for sale” signs in their windows.
And if it’s not your vehicle (even if it’s your son’s), you are prohibited from parking it on your property.
The fine can be $100 a day.
What the Arvada planning commission may not have considered, however, is that Wambolt isn’t your average retiree.
In fact, the guy is delightfully stubborn, as Wal-Mart and the city of Arvada found out recently when he spearheaded the effort to save Columbine Lake and exposed eminent-domain abuse by the city.
In any event, Wambolt found the notion of Arvada dictating whether he could hang a sign on his own property a bit perplexing.
Naturally, he secured a lawyer.
Robert Corry, who now represents Wambolt, is due for a preliminary hearing on the matter today, and he believes this minor skirmish is all about freedom.
“Basically, this is a First Amendment case. The law prohibited the government from making content-based distinctions,” Corry says. “In this case, it’s clear a
content-based distinction is being used: ‘For sales’ are prohibited, but no other sign or messages are prohibited. For instance, you could put a sign up that says ‘Mayor is for sale’ on your car.”
If Wambolt really wanted to garner some First Amendment support, he could hang a sign that reads “For Sale … and #@*% George Bush.”
Now we’re talking censorship.
In an attempt to avoid appearing like an overbearing bunch of nannies, Arvada has launched a rather limp defense.
“The city of Arvada DOES NOT ban ‘for sale’ signs in cars,” reads a release. “Rather, the city’s ordinance prohibits vehicle owners from placing such a sign in a vehicle and parking it for the primary purpose of having an ‘intent to sell.”‘
It was so simple, even superfluous capitalization couldn’t distract me: In Arvada, you may hang a “for sale” sign in your car unless you actually have an “intent to sell” the automobile.
If you think that’s confusing, you may also wonder why a city that DOES NOT have a ban has vigorously defended one.
First, Arvada argued that the prohibition of “for sale” signs enhances traffic safety for all its citizens.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I read about a half-dozen snazzy political bumper stickers on my way to work – blood and oil and so forth. Yet, surely more accidents are caused by men gazing at eye-catching ladies than those checking out a “for sale” sign on a Ford truck.
What’s next? Should we ban scantily clad outfits in the name of traffic safety? Is this the kind of profane despotism we can look forward to?
Arvada also points to the importance of city aesthetics. But, as Corry points out, there are plenty of hideous cars in your neighborhood that aren’t for sale and just as many nice ones that are.
On a more significant level, both Corry and Wambolt believe this ordinance – there are similar ones in Denver and elsewhere – is particularly unjust for lower-
income Coloradans.
“A lot of people that don’t own a house have no safe place to park,” explains Corry. “This ordinance punishes the people who are probably most likely to sell their cars in this manner.”
What’s most confusing about this whole affair? If Arvada is so gung-ho regarding aesthetics and safety, why on Earth would they force someone to keep a 1966 pickup in town?
David Harsanyi’s column appears Monday and Thursday. He can be reached at 303-820-1255 or dharsanyi@denverpost.com.
