But this was no silly, "Hey, check this out!" type of post. The vehicle was parked illegally across the street from the city's indoor basketball court. Before towing the abandoned car, police wanted to see if they could find its modern Stone-Age owner.
After just a few short hours, the city updated its post mid-Thursday, saying the owner had been located. (New Times has requested the report, hoping to glean any new information.) Sadly, police did not identify him or her or explain, you know, what's up with that. Was this an art project? A themed pedicab designed for the purpose of enticing and overcharging drunk tourists? Has someone actually been picked up for a date in this thing? Did officers finally get to meet the Flintstones?
Perhaps because it was always dated, The Flintstones continues to be timeless in a way that, say, The Jetsons is not. Who can't relate to Wilma's shopping addiction or Fred's slippery job security? (True story: As a kid, I used to be genuinely afraid that Fred Flintstone would be fired because I thought it was literal — as in, his mean boss would burn him at the stake.) As ridiculous as it is to see a Flintstones car parked half a mile from Margaritaville, there's a reason why no one's calling in about an abandoned disc-shaped flying car.
Which is all to say that even though police have halted their search, we're still looking for you, owner of this majestic motor