Let me tell you something about our neighborhood. As blessed as we are to be able to literally roll down the hill and into the front door of a Dairy Queen, we are also very close to a popular bar (there are like 4 in town).
I have seen all many of drunks. Some fall into the neighbors bushes on their way up the steep incline. Others trade cash for rides across town. Still, others crash into your porch in the middle of the night and take off.
So it's not unusual to have a car do some weird shit on our street. Sitting on the porch watching the sober and the straight parallel park is a treat for me. We came out and saw this guy.
At first I thought it was just some jackass that didn't know how to drive a stick. The car would drop back 12 inches and then stop. 12 inches. Stop.
As we approached it we saw that it was empty. And the doors were locked. AND it was on a slooooooooooowwwwwwwwwww path of destruction with the neighbors blue Corsica.
I called 911, Troy got a large piece of scrap wood from the backyard and we waited for the cops to show. And waited. And waited. And then went inside and waited some more. Meanwhile, all manner of jackass crammed their cars/SUV/Trucks through the small space left open in the road. This was often followed by squealing tires because they are so ANGRY they have to take it out on the pavement.
50 minutes later a neighbor from a few house down came out with his friend and we went outside to retrieve out prop. He was kind of embarrassed as I guess anyone would. The cops never showed although we heard them chirp the sirens once. We wondered what the hell a cop in the Font would have to do at 11 at night. We had no answers.
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