My wife and I live on the corner of a fairly busy intersection that’s controlled by a stoplight. For this reason, we are serenaded nightly by cars with sub-woofers that cost twice as much as the actual car. Thanks to new city ordinances, I could report them to the police who would then send them a ticket, but honestly, I have no moral ground to stand on.
You see, while the kids seem to like the lower frequencies and heavy bass, I, myself enjoy a lot of high end and treble. That’s why I tricked out my Ford Focus with a new device called an Ultra-Tweeter. When I take the lady out cruising, we pull over, pop the trunk and crank up that ultra-tweeter. Sure some low-rent sound systems like to rattle the windows of the houses they pass with the sub-woofer, but my ultra-tweeter makes their pets explode. But I digress. The point is that I live in a high traffic area.
Last night, a minivan pulled up outside my house and six men of varying ages piled out. They then proceeded to just hang out. After twenty minutes, I decided that my Pit Bull, Bailey, and I should head out and have a look. Under the guise of taking her for an evening stroll, I clipped the leash to her collar and, together, we nonchalantly walked out the front door.
This seemed to startle them.
“Oh, good evening, sir,” one of them said.
“Hello,” I replied and opened the gate.
“And who is this?” said the same guy, moving to pet Bailey.
“Yeah, don’t do that,” I said.
“Oh, so she’s mean, huh?”
“No. Just nervous around strangers.” That’s when the oldest of them chimed in.
“We’re just waiting for a co-worker.”
“Yeah,” said the apparent animal lover, “we have a siding business and, um, we’re going to be in the neighborhood tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I said, “I didn’t ask.” Bailey barked. “Quiet!” I said. As I started to take Bailey around the block, I pulled a small Mag Light out of my pocket and pointed it at the back of their minivan.
“What are you doin’?” one of them asked.
“Look,” I said, “I’m sure nothing’s going on, and I’m sure that you all belong to a siding company and you’re just waiting on a co-worker. But let’s say something does happen. Now, believe me, I’m not saying anything is going to happen, but let’s say it does. This might be good information to have, you know?”
This seemed to make them even more nervous.
“Tell you what, here’s my information: I drive a…” And I gave them the year, make, model and license plate number of my car. “Now, it helps if you know people who can look the information up, and I do, but if six guys are ever hanging out in front of where you live, and you happen to see a (year, make, model and license plate number), you can say: ‘Oh, hey, at least I know one of them,’ and rest easy. Okay? You all have a good night.” And Bailey and I went on our walk.
Before we had even rounded the corner, the minivan sped off. And wouldn’t you know it, when Bailey and I went on our walk today, we didn’t see anybody canvassing for siding business.
I still don’t know if what I did was incredibly stupid or incredibly cool. I do know that I really love our sweet, little dog.