I am not good at talking to neighbors or caring much about them, which is a problem for someone who has been standing on the soap box of community for years. Yet again, it seems like I know the process well enough to teach it but don’t carry them out. I don’t walk the talk if you will.
Last night as I was attempting to shut down my life and brain, I saw a tow truck stop and back up down the street. I have been in the situation before where my car looked so bad that it might get towed. I have also had my car towed more than once for many reasons in many countries and so have had to go deal with impound lots and paperwork and loads of frustration.
Those feelings quickly came back in a split second because the city has been ticketing our neighbors second— well more like first ever since it is old and undependable— car for a couple weeks and gave a 72 hours notice of towing. It was less than eight so I was ready. Ready to what I don’t know, but I was ready.
I was ready because I wanted to protect my neighbor. She is a nice lady that lives alone and works a lot …and doesn’t do much for her yard. The yard we offered to help with as a way to get to know her and “be neighbors”. She did it herself after repeated offers, so we are still waiting to help and get to know her.
But I wasn’t waiting this time. I ran to the bedroom and quietly, as not to wake the sleeping beautiful Hannah, put on some pants and a not undershirt and ran down stairs.
I busted through the door and …
Saw her standing there chatting with the driver when I notice the tow truck blowing up her tires. This tow truck was a friend. We chatted for a minute about if she needed our garage but then realized she had figured it all out for herself…again…and was finally moving the ticketed and expired tagged a.k.a vintage VW bug at 1045 at night.
So I helped a neighbor, kind of. And maybe I am one step closer to being Mr. Rogers.