Save Me From My Neighbors!

Today was a beautiful winter's day, a little chilly but nice enough to enjoy the out of doors. The only problem was that my neighbor Daryl was enjoying it too. Is there any way to escape your messed up neighbors?

Today I come driving home from the library with my two boys in tow and what do I hear blaring out of Daryl's work van parked in front of his house, The Little River band at 125 decibels! And just so you know, 125db is when pain begins, and my head was throbbing. He's made sure that we can all enjoy his FM radio station complete with commercials. Every door of this van is wide open, and he has the volume turned all the way up. I guess the boombox that is connected to a car battery, that's connected to the solar panel in his front yard must be out of order, so he had to improvise. He's walking around moving lumber from here to there and doing all sorts of other crap.

As I walk into the front door of my house I notice that my wife has the windows open to let in some fresh air as she works at her computer, and she looks perturbed. She informs me that she's been looking for a boombox to blare classical music out of our front door to drown out Daryl's noise, but she couldn't find one. I think for a moment and come up with a solution. I attach my iPod to a set of amplified speakers and we are in business. I hang the speakers out the front door and start broadcasting Mozart as loud as I can get it.

It was rather pleasant in our house for about an hour with Mozart tickling our ears, most of the music was going outside so it wasn't overly loud in the living room. Outside was very different story, Mozart from my iPod was competing with Classic Rock from “BOB FM.” It didn't take long for Daryl to give in and turn off his tunes. He closed the doors of the van, then rumbled down the road in ole Rust Bucket. I'm still convinced Daryl's not from this planet and his rusty van is an alien space craft that makes frequent trips into outer space. But what was really puzzling me was why did Daryl spend days sanding the rust spots on his van? He even had his buddy -who threw fish on my roof years back- out there sanding with him. What do you think he did after he was done sanding away all of that rust? Absolutely nothing, no primer from a rattle can, no Scooby Doo paint job, nothing, not a damn thing. His van is now half painted, and half bare rusting metal. Maybe he needs rusting bare metal spots to be able to make contact with the mother ship, I don't think I'll ever know.

So for the moment I had relief from Daryl's noise pollution, so I called my sister in Florida on Skype. She had recently moved there from Oregon and her and her family are now enjoying the nice weather. While we are talking she stops and yells to her husband “He's at it again!” I ask her what's going on, and she tells me that their hillbilly neighbor is shooting off his guns. That's the trade off you get when you move to the country. You may be away from cities and the annoying neighbors named Daryl, but you trade Daryl for a neighbor named Floyd who likes to shoot at critters in his yard when he's not doing cookies with his ATV. It's America and our hillbillies have got to have their guns and motor sports damn it!

I've decided what I want is land out in the country, with no hillbillies, no vegetation to have to constantly whack, and no chickens! But I don't know if that's even possible. I suppose you could do chicken farming in a way where the chickens eat and peck the vegetation down, then it might be a possibility. And I suppose if you do your homework you could limit your exposure to hillbillies. I would think if a sign in front of the house next to the one you're looking to buy reads “No Trespassen, Git!” would be a good indicator as to why the house you are looking at is such a fantastic buy. Also look for the presence of teeth in the local inhabitants, or lack there of. Missing teeth is always a good indication that you may be in the middle of a hillbilly infestation. I will admit that the prospect of cheap moonshine produced by the locals has it's appeal, but I would rather buy my booze from the store.

Not all of my neighbors are crazy nut jobs. We have always had a great relationship with our neighbor Bill next door to our right. We watch their miniature horse when they go on trips, and their daughter and her boyfriend house sat for us while we took a trip to southern California. They did a fine job and the dog and the two cats were only slightly traumatized from the experience. I thought our little dog was going to need CPR when we arrived down the street. He was out being walked, and if he had been wearing doggy pants he would have crapped them when my son called out his name as we drove by.

I don't think you can truly get away from having neighbors unless you are in the 1% and can buy enough land to be out of hearing range of hillbillies shooting at varmints. Personally I'm hoping for an island with a mountain tall enough to avoid Tsunamis. That's were my house will be, right on top of that mountain. I could go down from time to time and collect coconuts, bananas, and go fishing like Gilligan. Maybe I would make my own rum so I would have something to sip as I lay underneath my big umbrella at my mountain retreat. Well hell if I could afford an island, then I guess I would have my rum delivered by porpoise. I would probably get very bored living on the island because I wouldn't have any nut jobs to write about, but I suppose I could hope for some castaways from a ship wreck, or maybe a pirate invasion.

Ok scratch the island idea, the thought of having to dig tiger pits to protect myself from pirates sounds like too much work. For the moment I'll just put up with Daryl.