KEEP ON TRUCKIN'

I don’t get it. Everywhere I look outside my computer room’s front window, I see nothing but black pick up trucks. It’s been this way for years, beginning with my next door neighbor who first started parking his orange van in the driveway.

His Volkswagon van from the 60s. And, not just painted orange and white, but a major tribute to the Clemson football team which the guy idolizes. He’s 50, btw. Way past his college day years. You knew right off the bat the van was a tribute to Clemson because the whole damn thing was covered in Clemson logos… tigers, big paws, curtains, championship stickers… don’t ask. The fucking van looks like a monstrosity. Thank GOD he, after 5 years, finally either sold it or moved it somewhere else. I was thrilled to say the least.

Next thing I know, the same year the monstrosity was moved, boom. In it’s place comes a big black truck that belonged to his son while the kid was in college. I hate the truck as much as I did the van. Apparently the kid graduated college so now the neighbor decided to keep the truck for himself for another 5 years. Granted… the truck was shiny and all but seriously. Since when do I live in a used truck lot?? Better the guy should have parked his white Lexus outside.

On the other hand… the family has decided to move! Yay me. I’ll never have to see these ugly vehicles ever again. Except… I do. So get this…

I’ve been having a raging war inside my head, now with the guy ACROSS the street from me instead of next to me! About a year ago, HE decided to… sitting down??… park HIS black truck right smack on the street! Is this a joke?? Now I’m staring at yet another black truck everytime I look out the window?? It’s driving me nuts to say the least. We do NOT allow onstreet parking in my neighborhood! Well, except for this guy, apparently.

Turns out we all have two car garages plus ample parking in our nice sized driveways. The guy accross the street can’t use any of this however, given 1.) his garage is filled to the gills with what looks like a baby catamarand and all kinds of gargage junk 2.) his adult daughter moved back home with her now 3 year old baby and car and 3.) the wife has a car, so that means the two of them need to park in the driveway. Which means the neighbor now needs the street for his ugly black truck. It’s totally ridiculous.

So… since I’m on the Board of Directors for my Homeowner’s Association I finally decided to air my grievances to the President. I explained not only does a truck on the street totally ruin the look of our otherwise stunning neighborhood but more importantly, it poses a possible danger, given one now needs to drive AROUND the truck to continue on the street. Which at night means: it makes it tricky for not smashing head on to an oncoming vehicle. 

I also explained that I do not want to create any bad blood with this rule breaking neighbor, and would appreciate it if he, as President, would please address the issue FOR me. Mr. Prez said SURE. I’LL TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT. Yay resolution.

Except not so fast. I first mentioned the problem to the dopey looking President in February, let’s say and I’ve mentioned it to him several times since. And, I mean several. Plus, I’ve asked him to please let me know how the conversation went down, what the result was, etc. Uh… no such luck. I’ve heard nothing. No wonder. The guy hasn’t yet HAD a conversation with the neighbor. This is so hard?? It takes 6 months to accomplish this?? Fuck them both.

At this point, I’m ready to shoot the truck owner AND the President. I am totally getting no where… and fast. You can’t iMAGine how frustrated I am. Thus… I guess I’ll never get help nor rid the problem. So basically… I took matters into my own hands.

I quit the Board of Directors. That’ll teach ‘em!

I decided why the hell should I continue to work on this Board if I can’t even get deserved help in ridding myself of this stupid truck. Let them find some other sucker to take my place. Besides… when I accepted this position, I was told it was for a 2 year stint. Naturally, true to form, I then immediately began the monthly countdown to the end of my tenure, so looking forward to the completion of my Board service. THEN all of a sudden, a couple of months ago, when service was supposedly over, boom. I’m told: No. Not 2 years. THREE! Which now makes the President not only a schmuck, but a liar, too. (uh… sound familiar, btw??) Regardless…

Two days ago I emailed the President and made up some floosey excuse of why I needed to resign, hoping he’d understand and thanking the Board for all the effort they put into keeping our neighborhood as wonderful as it is. Two can play at this lying game, right? I have to admit I loved every second of this resignation. And oh yeah... after months of getting no info whatsoever about this truck bullshit, how long you think it took for me to hear from the Prez??

Boom. Next day.

Now, all of a sudden he finally tells me how he’s TRIED calling Mr. Black Truck, but his calls haven’t been returned. THEN GUESS WHAT?? WALK ON OVER TO HIS HOUSE AND KINDLY EXPLAIN THE SITUATION! OR EMAIL THE GUY. OR SOMEthing! What an asshole. Actually… now that I think about it… I am TOTALLY going to miss the goodies the wife puts out for us to munch on during our meetings. Of course, I’m pretty much the only one out of four, who downs most of the treats, but who’s counting. Two weeks ago she served homemade chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting and they were mighty tasty, if I say so myself. I'm going to miss the delicious cheese and crackers, too. Anyway…

Mr. Head of the Board emails me that he’s sorry to see me go but he understands, which basically means he fell for my completely crazy ass fake reason. And as I said… it was in his last paragraph that he threw in the bit of trying to reach Mr. Black Truck. Which is probably a lie, too, but at this point who cares.

Via my resignation, I’ve definitely claimed a personal victory in my war between these two folks. A victory that probably is going to come back to bite me in the ass sometime but still… a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Or… a woman.