As many people (me definitely included) have explained over the past decade, opponents of food trucks typically advocate in favor of a host of nefarious restrictions on the roving restaurants, including protectionist limits on where they may sell food (often with an eye toward "protecting" brick-and-mortar restaurants), where they may cook that food (some cities don't allow trucks to prepare food fresh on the truck), and what days and times they may operate.
While countless cities and towns have reduced or eliminated these and other restrictions, many pointless barriers remain.
"Just to operate around metro Atlanta today, [gyro truck owner Ali] Moradi has to have seven county permits and 13 city business licenses—which add up to about $3,700 in annual fees, plus the related paperwork," Atlanta magazine reported last month in a piece on the "red tape" and "strict municipal regulations" that encumber Atlanta-area food trucks. "It's a lot to keep track of. Costs and red tape—plus strict municipal regulations about where food trucks can do their business—have conspired to stifle the growth of the industry in the Atlanta area, keeping trucks at the fringes of the dining scene."
While Atlanta reports the rules are improving—a bill now on the governor's desk would help reduce the permitting barriers—regulations there still stink. And they're even worse and worsening in some parts of the country.
Lawmakers in Seabrook, New Hampshire, for example, voted earlier this year to prohibit food trucks and carts that had been operating at the town's beach this summer. Officials cited a couple tangible issues arising from trucks and carts in previous years—including overflowing trash bins. But rather than, say, raise the town's low permit fees to allow for better or more frequent garbage disposal, the town just banned the trucks altogether.
reason.com
While countless cities and towns have reduced or eliminated these and other restrictions, many pointless barriers remain.
"Just to operate around metro Atlanta today, [gyro truck owner Ali] Moradi has to have seven county permits and 13 city business licenses—which add up to about $3,700 in annual fees, plus the related paperwork," Atlanta magazine reported last month in a piece on the "red tape" and "strict municipal regulations" that encumber Atlanta-area food trucks. "It's a lot to keep track of. Costs and red tape—plus strict municipal regulations about where food trucks can do their business—have conspired to stifle the growth of the industry in the Atlanta area, keeping trucks at the fringes of the dining scene."
While Atlanta reports the rules are improving—a bill now on the governor's desk would help reduce the permitting barriers—regulations there still stink. And they're even worse and worsening in some parts of the country.
Lawmakers in Seabrook, New Hampshire, for example, voted earlier this year to prohibit food trucks and carts that had been operating at the town's beach this summer. Officials cited a couple tangible issues arising from trucks and carts in previous years—including overflowing trash bins. But rather than, say, raise the town's low permit fees to allow for better or more frequent garbage disposal, the town just banned the trucks altogether.
Terrible Restrictions on Food Trucks Are Still a Thing
More than halfway through 2022, many cities and towns across America—big and small—are somehow still pretending that food trucks are some newfangled
reason.com