Most restaurants would kill for the following the Cinnamon Snail had. On a typical weekday, a line of a few dozen customers snaked down the sidewalk, waiting for lunch from the vegan food truck.

But simply selling loads of food wasn’t enough, and the 5-year-old mobile vendor abandoned the New York City streets earlier this year.

“We were among the most popular food trucks in the country and it wasn’t feasible,” says chef-owner Adam Sobel, who lives in Red Bank, NJ. He blames city bureaucracy and fines for his truck’s demise.

Ol' Snaily crushing it #flatiron style. #veganfoodtruck #nycfoodtruck #foodtruck A photo posted by The cinnamon snail (@cinnamonsnail) on Aug 21, 2014 at 10:44am PDT

New Yorkers with the romantic dream of giving up on the cubicle rat race and opening a food truck are waking up to a nightmare. And many once-hopeful owners are throwing in the towel after discovering the harsh reality on the street.

“The food truck bubble has burst,” says Dennis Kum, owner of Big D’s Grub Truck, who was an electrical engineer before getting into food service. “More vendors are going out of business or trying to open up a restaurant. It’s easier. People come in, they sit down, you don’t get parking tickets.”

The biggest hurdle — beyond the $100,000 or so it takes to get a truck up and running — is securing a permit. Despite the explosion in food trucks over the last few years, the number of mobile food vending permits issued by the city remains the same as it has since 1981, when the once-unlimited permits were capped at 3,000.

Many of those permits remain with those who owned them in the 1980s, and getting one through the city is virtually impossible. Vendors turn to the black market, where the $200 slip of paper can cost $20,000 — often in cash.

“It’s as sketchy a situation as buying drugs in Washington Square Park,” says Sobel, who rented his permit on the black market. “It’s a lot of cash.”

Permits have to be re-upped every two years, which is a big reason why Sobel decided to pull the Cinnamon Snail truck off the streets.

Operators who’d rather not deal with criminals can join the reported 20-year waiting list. Or give up.

That’s what happened to Liz Courtney, a Red Hook marketing professional who tried to launch a hot-dog truck in 2011. She worked special events, such as the Hester Street Fair, but quit in 2013 after failing to secure a permit.

“If I did this business again I wouldn’t do it in New York,” she says. “There’s too much red tape.”

She’s not alone. The popular Mexico Blvd taco truck, which drew big crowds in Midtown and Dumbo, was recently driven to close because of, as the owners posted online, “the insupportable system NYC has.” It joins Mexicue, Hibachi Heaven, Rickshaw Dumpling and many others that have quit the streets since December 2013.

Dear NYC, after 4 wonderful years we have been forced to stop our street vending operations.... Full story at www.mexicoblvd.com A photo posted by @mexicoblvd on Oct 29, 2015 at 7:48am PDT

The other major issue in NYC is the avalanche of tickets beneath which vendors find themselves buried. Kum says he currently has $4,000 worth of outstanding fines.

There is virtually no place in the city food trucks can legally park without receiving a $65 ticket.

Sean Basinski, director of advocacy group Street Vendor Project, is lobbying for special zones where food trucks can gather, as you find in Washington, DC.

Hiring workers is also difficult because, unlike at a restaurant, every person on a food truck has to undergo intensive safety training.

“It takes three months to get one of these certifications,” Sobel says. “If [an employee] gave us two weeks’ notice, we might not have enough staff to operate.”

Meanwhile, Kum — who often parks his Big D’s Grub Truck on 50th Street between Sixth and Seventh avenues during the lunch rush — is considering a slightly more convenient location: Texas.

“I have friends who moved there, and the food truck scene is great,” he says.