You can't pick your neighbors...Douche edition

My good friend, Chloe, did a hilarious post the other day about her crazy neighbors (stop by and check it out - love the illustrations she did along with it!), and  I'm short on blogging ideas these days so...I figured I'd steal from her and do a little post on mine too :-) 

 

 

Ours are nowhere near as crazy as hers are.  Yes, in my apartment days, I did have a drug dealing neighbor who would leave at all hours of the day, stomped around his apartment like a storm trooper and always seemed to be moving furniture and hanging pictures at all hours of the night.  But now that we're in a house, we have more distance between us and the people near us.  Well, with the exception of one family.  

 

 

They live across the street from us and moved in only a few months ago.  We knew they were there because of the noise.  It's a young couple with a kid, and the man apparently likes to race cars.  I'm all for someone restoring a car.  My dad has his 1972 Chevelle he completely restored and takes to shows.  That's great.  But this guy's car is different.  It's some 1990 version of a Camero that really doesn't look that great on the outside.  The only thing I think he has done with it is mess with the engine so that it idles really low and rumbles loudly and he has to gun it to get the car to go.  We know he races because he leaves at all hours of the day and always has numbers written on the back window in soap.  I think road racing like that is illegal in Indiana, but...I can only assume he would be doing this on the down low.  Not very bright about it though because you can hear him coming and going every time. 

 

 

It would be one thing if he just drove the car calmly down the street, but the douche treats our street like a drag strip.  Forget the fact it's a residential street and that most of us have children who like to play on the street.  I hate to think that Aubrey won't be safe to be outside when she's older.  And it really irritates me when he does this at 3:00 in the morning.  Before Aubrey was born, he left his house so loudly he startled me awake in the middle of the night.  And we're talking startled, as in really startled.  Scared me half to death.  The other night I was feeding Aubrey at 3:00, and he did it and woke her up just as she was beginning to doze off.  For those mothers who understand just how delicate it is, the process of feeding your newborn calmly and quietly so that you can quickly put them back to bed and get some sleep yourself, can feel my pain, I'm sure. 

 

 

I've thought about confronting him about it, but I'm afraid that will make our living situation worse.  I mean...the guy is a douche.  I'm sure maturity doesn't go hand in hand with the love of drag racing his piece of crap 1990s Camero.  Or looking up any noise ordinances I can call in.  Any ideas? 

 

 

I guess I should save for another day the post about our neighbor kid who likes to throw knives and hatchets at a piece of board he puts up on his tree in his backyard.  Last week I saw him massacring what looked to be a toy.  Just a serial killer in training....and we do live in a nice suburban neighborhood, mind you.  But...another post for another day :-) 

 

 

Thanks for the post idea, Chloe!