The Minivan Outside My House

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.

-Dylan

There are 7 comments

  1. I vote: Incredibly Cool. And kinda ballsy. And you’ve gotta be cool and ballsy if you’re gonna own a pit bull and not be a poser, so good on ya’.

  2. Curtis wrote

    Absolutely you did the right thing, since my own dog is a 7 pound mutt I would have just walked “daisy” my 12 gauge winchester, but then again I live in Phoenix where everyone is armed.

  3. dave theune wrote

    Very cool. You are the closest person to Batman that I know.

  4. Heather wrote

    Perhaps tangential at best–and not relative to the content of the post at all–while I love reading your blog, I can’t get past your RKHS, Zunker-esque, typing-class-nazi adherence to the “two spaces after a period” rule.

    I ask you, in the name of all that is holey (cuz I would never bring religion into this, just my clothes), please cease and desist! The Mac is not a Typewriter! By proxy, any device connected to the Interwebs isn’t a typewriter either. One space after a period is quite enough. We get it. We’ll pause for breath.

    I will pray for you while I work on an electrified keyboard.

  5. Heather:

    I thank you for your comment, and will defend to the death your right to write it. (Single space) You’ve clearly been hurt, and I’m sorry. If you feel this kind of vitriol because of an extra tap on the space bar, may I suggest that the source of your issue might be from somewhere other than my sentences. Furthermore, A) I have a P.C., B) The double space isn’t for the reader, it’s for me. It’s a rhythm thing.

    Forever yours and a General,

    Dylan

    P.S. I look forward to your comments regarding font.

  6. Amy (your wife) wrote

    I love our baby pitty too! Thanks for looking out for our home and the neighborhood – with the help of your sidekick Bailey. We need to get you guys some capes.

    p.s. When did the double space after a sentence stop? I’ve been told this before, but I don’t understand why it had to change? Who decided this? Please advise.

  7. spacebar?where,when,why,who,what&howdoigetone?anddoihave2b212getin?questionsfromthevoicesinmyheadthat
    allsoundlikeSarahPalin!somebodysend6guyswithsidingexperience2helpme,please!