We hadn’t even finished unpacking when the neighborhood welcome wagon arrived in the form of Lindsey, our new neighbor with perfectly coiffed hair and a tray of suspiciously uniform cookies. Her eyes darted around our rental house like she was conducting an inspection rather than delivering baked goods. The “friendly reminder” about the HOA’s one-car-per-driveway rule came with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Three days later at 5am, the sound of tow trucks woke us. We raced outside barefoot to find both our vehicles being hauled away – with Lindsey watching from the sidewalk in her lavender robe, sipping coffee like she’d just won the neighborhood watch award. That’s when I pointed to the nearly invisible decal on our rear windshield. “Bet you didn’t notice that little mark,” I said as her smug expression dissolved into confusion.
The next morning, a black SUV pulled up and a stone-faced agent informed Lindsey she was being investigated for interfering with a federal operation. Turns out towing undercover government vehicles comes with a $25,000 price tag. We moved out a week later, but not before seeing Lindsey’s prized rose bushes start to wither – a fitting metaphor for her deflated neighborhood tyranny.
