Macho men have wept. Peaceful men have screamed and waved their fists. Young moms with 100 errands on their to-do lists have sat down on curbs and cried. Babies cramped in safety seats have bawled on sidewalks.

The tow trucks are tearing through town. Every hour, every night.

Like military tanks, with soldiers who carry clipboards instead of sidearms. They have power and they wield it.

Parked in a visitor spot at a local apartment complex? Sorry, sir or ma’am. The hook is out. Your wheels are off the ground and we’re hauling you away.

They have power, all right. The power to carry your wheels to a lot where your vehicle is chained inside a fence. The last pennies in your account will be required to free your means of locomotion.

Tow trucks are great when you have a dead battery, a flat tire or an engine that teases you with coughing sounds. They can carry you to safety.

You can’t wait to see those yellow lights flashing like an alien spacecraft when you’re stuck on the side of I-95 and there’s not a friendly face in the world.

Show me the money

But in the inner city, the yellow gleam seems more like a glare of hostility than salvation. It’s a money machine marching through town when the buzz of noon traffic has slowed to a drone.

It’s a strange, incestuous situation we have here. I have trouble grasping it, so allow me a paragraph or two to explain.

In your larger apartment complexes, parking is a problem. People are always hogging spaces. One tenant may have way too many personal vehicles or just a few too many visitors. Other tenants complain. Something’s gotta be done.

The owners of the complexes don’t have time to hear every single complaint. So they contract out to the local tow service: Any vehicle not properly permitted to park in a spot? Hook that car or truck, and haul it far, far away.

If you’re the owner of a tow company, it’s the jackpot. You don’t need to sit around and wait for complaints. You can cruise the hot zones – Tall Pines, say. Pleasantview. Housing complexes along Rideout and Knox streets.

See a car without a permit? Tow it. Tow it far and without discussion.

I’ve had people call me with horror stories. I went to visit my ailing mother, sir. And when I got outside, my car was attached to a bunch of steel cables. I tried to run after the tow truck driver and beg for lenience. But I have this bad leg…

If it were just one report of tow-truck terror, I might have dismissed it as griping. At least once a week, I get a fresh description of a shark-like tow truck come to claim prey.

I went to Knox Street to visit my drug-addicted sister, sir, after she had called me in pain and fear. I flushed her dope, got her in bed and gathered her kid up to spend the night with me. When I got outside, all I saw were those blinking yellow lights fading away toward downtown. My car was gone and so was my means of getting to work in the morning.

Cops are called. Cops respond. But what can cops do when the tow truck drivers have been given free rein to yank away cars and trucks at their discretion?

Who cares?

It’s $80 or so a pop to free those purloined wheels. Somebody is making serious dough here. And who cares if that car owner has two kids who have to be at two different schools and there’s grocery shopping to be done at the end of a 10-hour workday?

Who cares when there is so much money to be made.

I heard the mother of all tow-truck horror stories the other day. This man – a reverend – pleaded with the tow driver to unhook his car on Whitney Street. The driver flashed what appeared to be a badge. He hauled out a can of Mace and sprayed the reverend and his female friend.

A tussle ensued. The two men fell to the ground. The reverend and his friend escaped to their car, at which point the tow driver drew a gun.

“I will shoot you!” the driver yelled, according to a statement in the police report.

The cops arrived. Hot words were exchanged. In the end, they bagged the tow-truck driver for assault, criminal threatening, reckless conduct and criminal use of a disabling chemical agent.

I hope they take his car, make him ride a pogo stick to work every day and then bust him whenever he parks it without a permit.

I’ve been rescued by some great tow companies here, don’t get me wrong. It’s the militant, money-grubbing types who give the profession a bad name. They have carburetors where their hearts should be.

Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter.

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