They circle the parking lots and streets of State College, their engines rumbling, pairs of eyes darting about, and in particularly dim areas, their nosy spotlight roaming. Like sharks, they survey the scene, seeking the delicious "blood" that is your lime green Chevy Nova that's illegally occupying spot No. 45-L.

Four-way flashers be damned.

And when they finally pounce, their metal jaws snatching up the rear end of your beautiful vehicle, the feeding frenzy officially begins.

Since my tenure at Penn State, State College towing companies have been the subject of some of the most colorful, keyboard-character-filled comments I have heard outside of a Naval base. They're despised. They're hated. They're the victims of firecrackers exploding beneath the underbelly of their menacing vehicles.

The towing companies are rarely -- if ever -- discussed in the pages of this newspaper. That's the way they want it. Asking for comment from the companies will get you stonewalled harder than the Confederate general.

Yet, even though the towing companies aren't talking to anyone, there seems to be bona fide student unrest concerning their business practices, as well as a myriad of other problems.

The question in this dispute then becomes: "Why are students so angry at tow trucks that they'll resort to lobbing M-80s at them?"

It's two things, really.

1.) The dollar bill. Getting your vehicle towed, which can often result in premature baldness or ulcers, is expensive. How expensive? Try up to $100 at some places. What, you mean you were only picking up a friend and were in the spot illegally for no more than five minutes?

That's a shame. Pay me, young buck.

In other instances, if you're lucky enough to catch the driver before your car is transported to impound purgatory, you can get your car lowered from the lift and keep it from harm.

For $40.

If I wanted to spend $40 on something that ridiculous, I'd buy a used copy of The Berenstain Bears at the Student Book Store for the very same price.

Most students scrape by financially as is. Charging outrageous prices for such "services" is ludicrous and downright insulting.

2.) Hey, watch the windshield, man. I want to give the towing companies a chance, I really do. But then there's always the instance of a driver getting out of his vehicle, wading through eight inches of blizzard in his Alaskan snowshoes to brush off a tiny section of your snow-squalled windshield. Just a helpful gesture by your friendly, neighborhood tow truck driver, yes?

Wrong.

He's looking for your parking tag -- and if you don't have it, your rear is going to be in gear.

There are other horror stories that have been passed along to me. But to be honest, tow truck companies aren't utter and complete villains. I honestly believe they do not understand the magnitude with which they can anger people.

But people, come on. Save the M-80s for the next home football game.

I suppose there are solutions to this situation that don't involve vilifying towing companies. Students shouldn't park illegally. State College Borough Council needs to provide more downtown parking. Penn State has to stop constricting parking on campus that causes vehicle overflow into other, previously less-crowded parking lots. And so on and so forth.

In the spirit of lively discussion, my solution is simple. And so much more fun. Spend a spring day outside -- sitting in a parking space. Grab your Coleman camping chair and do just that. Take a beverage, maybe even a handful of pretzels and the latest issue of The Daily Collegian. And just sit.

See if that delightful blue Ford truck with the steel scorpion's tail sidles up to you and asks where your tag is.

Think they'll tow you?

To tell you the truth, anything is possible in this town.