BANGOR – His rusty blue wagon, covered with golf balls, sat in a parking lot facing the busy roadway. On its fenders, hot-pink poster board featured the words “GOLF BALLS” scrawled in black marker.

From the driver’s seat, Lou Tardiff scouted potential customers, his eyes peering through cracked spectacles. He was trying to sell golf balls collected from the woods at local courses.

“I cleaned them up beautiful,” he said recently. “I wouldn’t sell them with stains.”

Tardiff, 57, is one of many vendors in Bangor who set up shop in their vehicles throughout the summer. Offerings range from strawberries and clams to fiddleheads and corn.

He thought the city-owned parking lot on Maine Avenue near University College of Bangor was one of the few areas he could market his wares without paying a fee.

But he was wrong. Instead, he was unknowingly breaking a municipal code that forbids peddling on city property. Since its inception in 1992, however, the ordinance rarely has been enforced, allowing vendors to sell unabatedly.

About 100 yards down the crumbling pavement, Colleen Butera, 32, of Brewer operated from her Jeep, selling fresh rhubarb that grows in her yard.

Neither vendor is an aspiring entrepreneur.

Tardiff has hit up the location eight times this season. It’s just a way to get some exercise – to “keep the weight off,” he said – and put gasoline in his Ford.

“It’s not enough to pad my retirement, though,” he acknowledged.

Tardiff tried selling his merchandise in Brewer, where he lives. And business was good, until police asked him to leave. At the time, Brewer charged $100 to peddle in the city, he said. He respected the ordinance and abandoned his temporary enterprise.

“Ever since I’ve been in Bangor, I haven’t had any problems with anyone,” Tardiff said.

For Butera, a substitute teacher in Brewer, it was her first time. If she didn’t sell the rhubarb, it would go to waste. The tart stalks go for $2.99 per pound at Shaw’s Supermarkets. Her price of $1 per bundle, which she figured to be equivalent to a pound, was a steal. Without sales tax and other fees, she said, vendors can keep prices low, so patrons will buy.

That’s precisely one of the city’s gripes, however. It motivated the City Council to adopt a policy in 1992 to forbid peddling on city property except during Bangor’s 20 special events, such as the American Folk Festival.

Because they don’t pay taxes, energy bills or rental fees, vendors pose unfair competition to established businesses, according to Dan Wellington, the city’s code enforcement officer.

“People were even coming from out of state thinking they could sell things,” he said recently. “That forced us to look at who was doing business on city property.”

The council also addressed myriad public-safety issues while pondering the policy 14 years ago. People were peddling shellfish, a strictly regulated commodity. In one case, the tailgate of a vendor’s pickup was jutting into Maine Avenue, threatening traffic. Others were selling “inappropriate” materials, namely adult movies.

Maine Avenue, which serves as one gateway to Bangor International Airport, was of particular concern. Wellington, who has worked in the code enforcement office since 1983, said he and councilors were motivated by aesthetics when they drafted the ordinance. They didn’t want the airport entrance lined with peddlers or littered with leftover produce.

Butera didn’t know who owned the land, nor was she aware of signs near the three entrances reading: “No selling vehicles or vending this area.”

“There’s a sign? I didn’t see it,” she said.

The property has been posted since the ordinance was enacted, Wellington said.

There is a legal way to peddle in Bangor. Vendors must first acquire written permission from business owners to sell on their property, then pay an $11 fee at Wellington’s office.

City land is off-limits, however.

Wellington urged the coordination of a farmer’s market. The Bangor-Brewer Farmer’s Market in Bass Park closed seven years ago, prompting unlawful peddling, he said. A new one may alleviate the problem.

Tardiff was taken aback when he heard his actions were illegal. Paying money to peddle isn’t worth it, he said.

“Police were asked to stop and tell them to move,” Wellington said.

But the ball scavenger remains.

“I could see it if I was trying to sell a truckload of potatoes,” Tardiff said of the ordinance, “but I’m just trying to sell a few golf balls.”

Disrupting the monotony of a slow sales day, a man in a red SUV pulled into the lot and parked beside Tardiff’s Ford.

“What can I do for ya?” Tardiff asked the potential buyer.

“I just need something that won’t mind being hit into the woods,” the man answered.

The salesman found a package of Nike golf balls with “Super Far” embossed on their dimpled surfaces.

“Are those legal?” the customer asked.

Tardiff guaranteed compliance with golf standards, sealing the deal and collecting the man’s $8.

Sitting in his makeshift roadside store, the ball hawker knew one thing very well: If the customer hits the golf balls back into the woods, Tardiff could find himself selling the same golf balls all over again.

“It’s a cutthroat business,” he said and snickered.