Friday, January 20, 2006

Tale of Two Neighbors: Chapter 3

Ok, so it’s time to finish this stupid little tale, or at least bring you up to present day, because it certainly isn’t finished.

I got the one son to leave. I had a year or so of peace and quite with normal tenants in the MIL unit located in my neighbors backyard. The first son took all his junk with him and it was a nice normal street. Just as important as the junk being gone, the son himself was gone. He was a big, loudmouth. And I do mean big and I do mean loud. He is well over 300 pounds and it ain’t all muscle, if you know what I mean.

He speaks in a way so that it seems that he thinks that every one within a two block radius is going to be very interested in what he has to say. I could be upstairs in a back bedroom and he could be standing in his Mom’s backyard across the street and I could understand the intimate details of the cell phone conversation he was having with some idiot on the other end of the line. I am not joking or exaggerating in the least about this. There is no other way to say it: The guy is a big, fat, arrogant loudmouth.

So anyway, a year or so later the other son moves in and it’s not too bad at first. I think in an earlier post I said he was fresh out of the Army but it was The National Guard. He has a similar loud voice as his other brother but he is not carrying the extra weight. Soon enough, though, the business starts to ramp up again. He installs a new cement pad and builds racks for fence pipe and chain-link fencing. Welding and pipe cutting become regular announces and two trailers are parked on the street.

Then the other son starts to show up more and more. At first they both adhere to our agreement: no junk on the street next to my house. After a few months the fist brother parks his truck and trailer next to my house but only for an hour or so. I decided I’m not going to start running out the door like some old coot every time a truck pulls up to see if it is one of the idiots parking next to my house. It is just no way to live. I will over look the minor things. I don’t want to turn in to some complete neurotic about this.

As the months went by more and more crap began to show up. Trailers filled with construction debris, a large bucket-lift truck like electrical companies use, and other stuff. Some of it would sit on the street for weeks or even months at a time, but they never left the long-term crap on the street next to my house. However annoying it was, they kept the agreement. I found out through some friends that their father owns some land out side of the city and as it was described to me, “it is an absolute junkyard”. It seems this “disorder” runs in the family. I had visions of the street turning back into a junkyard.

Then the big-rigs started showing up with loads of steel pipe and rolls of chain link fence to be stored in the new racks built by the second son. When no one is home to unload them the freight company drops off the trailer on the street and picks it back up a few days later. All this time, more and more often, the first son is parking on the street along side my house. Sort of testing the waters, as it were. One night he leaves his truck and trailer over night. I went and talked to the Mom and reminded of our agreement. She said she would talk to them.

The final straw was in October. The first son parks a tractor – an actual farm tractor – on the street next to my house. At the same time there was a big-rig trailer waiting to be unloaded across the street. I went over and told the Mom it was over. I was finished dealing with this crap. She said something like, “Oh, I’ll talk to Jonathan again”. I stopped her. I said, “No, we’re finished. It’s over. I’m done dealing with this crap. It’s all gotta go. The business. The trucks. The trailers. The crap. It all has to go or I’m going to the city. I’ll give you until the first of the year to get it all out.” She said, “But the tailor isn’t on your side of the street”. I said, “I don’t care. I want it all gone”.

That brings you up to speed. I wrote about the initial confrontation and the Blow Back from the second son in earlier posts so I want bore you with that again. How will this end? Will the sons burn my house to the ground? Will I end up in a knock down drag out brawl in the middle of the street? Will somebody end up in jail? One thing is for sure I’m not going to back down. I will not waiver. I will not relent. This is my home and the street is not a storage area for junk and construction equipment. It may take a month, 6 months, or a year, but it will end. Mark my words.

The worst thing about all this is that if at one point one of them would have said something like, “You know Greg, you’re right. There is a lot of stuff on the street and we will make room for your tenants to park”. If the Mom or the second son had said, “You’re right, you and Jonathan had an agreement and he broke it. Let us talk to him and we will straighten it out”. If any one of them had treated me with respect I probably would not have gone to the city. I can be quite a push-over at times, but these people really think they ar more important than anyone else on the street. Either that or they just don’t give a shit. I’m not sure exactly which it is.

1 comment:

deb said...

you kinda have to treat your neighbours like kids.

kids are always pushing the envelope and seeing how far they can get and how much they can get away with. the hardest part is following through. if you say that they're going to the naughty corner if they jump off the couch one more time and you don't put them there... it just sends them a message that you're not serious and they'll keep jumping off the couch and soon they'll be swinging off the chandelier!

so go to the city and do everything you possibly can! yay! i'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself!