Our neighbor put a note on our car: “One car per house!” Soon afterward, she came over herself. I opened the door to greet her. She was in a pastel pink cardigan, a matching headband, and white capri pants. “Our HOA—very friendly, but firm—has rules: only one car per household in the driveway,” she stated. I blinked. “One car?” “Yes,” she answered more sternly. “No exceptions. It keeps us all orderly.” Jack looked at her. “Both our cars fit on the driveway, we’re not on the street.” “Still, two cars isn’t allowed. One house, one driveway, one car. The rule is for everyone,” she said with a tilt of her head. She left. We ignored her warning. Three days later, both of our cars had been towed. She stood outside, smiling widely. ME: “Wow! You really did it!” HER: “What’s so funny?!” ME: “Nothing. Just that YOU OWE US $25,000 NOW.” HER: nervous gulp “What—What do you mean?” I pointed at the mark on the tag, laughing. “Bet you overlooked that symbol!”👇
The quietude of a new neighborhood is often a deceptive veneer, a surface-level peace that hides the simmering eccentricities of those who have lived there long enough to believe they own the very air above the asphalt. When we moved into our home, we expected the typical hurdles of homeownership—leaky faucets, overgrown hedges, perhaps a…
