When Jack and I moved into a quiet rental on Maple Ridge Drive for a four-month work assignment, the neighborhood seemed peaceful and uneventful—exactly what we expected.
On our second evening, a neighbor named Lindsey showed up at our door with a plate of cookies and a smile that felt a little too rehearsed. After a bit of polite small talk, she suddenly warned us that the HOA allowed only one car per driveway, even though both of ours fit comfortably. We laughed it off, assuming she was just overly cautious.
A few days later, we woke up to the sound of tow trucks. To our shock, both of our cars were being hauled away while Lindsey stood on her lawn watching, clearly satisfied. The driver explained that an HOA complaint had been filed.
Jack calmly pointed to the federal fleet tags on our windshields.
The driver immediately froze, stepped aside, and made a phone call. Minutes later, both cars were unloaded and returned to the driveway, along with several apologies.
Later that day, the HOA president called to personally apologize, admitting that Lindsey had exaggerated the situation. From that moment on, she avoided us entirely.
We never said a word to her. We didn’t have to. Her attempt to control the situation had already turned back on her.
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