The Confrontation

Our home was built in 1874, and it is therefore safe to assume that modern conveniences such as indoor plumbing, electricity, as well as driveways and garages were all afterthoughts. For proof of this one needs to look no further than the ceiling light fixture in our living room, as its on/off switch is well-hidden on the back wall of the linen closet in our upstairs bathroom. It has been a source of family amusement for quite some time, and at one point we even offered a small cash incentive to the first person able to find its interesting location. Once one becomes accustomed to the fact that all ones modern conveniences have been retro-fitted in a sometimes less than desirable fashion, living in an old home is quite pleasant indeed.
We are lucky to have a nice gravel driveway and an old, in-need-of-paint, two story garage. The front part of our driveway, (the first 18 ft.) however, not being wide enough for 2 cars, is “shared,” which means that our neighbors have equal access. As you can imagine, a situation like this is a recipe for disaster.
Well, today it happened— after a nice breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a steaming hot cup of black coffee paired with a side of pleasant conversation with the locals at the Bowlin’ Alley, I drove home and pulled into the driveway just as my neighbor was backing out, presumably on her way to work. Luckily, she saw my car in her rear-view mirror and we both stopped immediately, she pulling forward, and I quickly putting my car in reverse and backing out into on-coming traffic. Once I realized that she had pulled her car far enough ahead to let me pass I pulled back into the driveway; much to the delight of the appliance delivery truck that had stopped just inches short of my passenger side door.
*****
I was not sure which situation would have been worse: having the passenger side of my car smashed in, or dealing with the two less-than-friendly looking gentleman occupying the cab of the truck. One of the surly lads even had a tattoo on his forehead depicting a gray tombstone with the bold red letters R.I.P. appearing to have been roughly scratched into the center of it. Something told me that those letters were not his girlfriend’s initials. I’m just sayin’. . .
*****
My neighbor’s passenger side window came down in unison with the window on the driver’s side of my Kia, which was now my fortress; and having dealt with this woman before in potentially explosive situations, I had a pretty good idea of what was coming next; this time however I would be ready. Armed to the teeth with verbiage the likes of which she had probably never heard before I inched my vehicle forward, already basking in the glow of my imminent fulfilling victory. She and her husband were two of the nicest people I had ever met, and I had been determined to one-up them in the “nice war” that I had been waging, mainly in my mind (unbeknownst to them, of course) for a couple of years, and this was my big chance; my shining moment.

As I stopped my car next to hers she quickly turned to look at me, and before she had a chance to say anything I shouted, “Good Mornin, beautiful day isn’t it?”
Then I quickly added, “I do believe that this is the first time something like THIS has ever happened,” I said laughing loudly referencing our “near miss,”
“I know, see ya’ in a few years,” she joked cheerily.

Her witty reply took me by surprise, and as she backed out of the driveway she stuck her head through the open window and yelled, “I almost forgot to tell you; I put a Mason jar full of fresh cut flowers on your patio table, I know how much your wife likes them, and oh yeah one more thing; don’t bother mowing the grass behind your garage, I did it this morning.”

Her car window closed quickly, leaving me sitting there dumbfounded, looking in my side view mirror and smiling as she drove away.

“Dammit, out-niced again,” I smiled to myself.
I sat quietly for a moment looking at the jar full of flowers, smiling at my own silliness, and counting my blessings.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” I said to no one. “Maybe I will break in their house and clean it—yeah, that’ll show ’em.”

I love small towns!