For months now, our neighbor across the street has been freaking me out, but I can’t put my finger on it. It’s either creepy, for illicit reasons, wasteful, or something. What, you’re probably wondering after two sentences, can he possibly do for so long to make me feel that way?
He sits in his Chevy Avalanche for hours on end at all hours of the day – with the engine running, often in reverse or with his brake lights on. I’ve seen him at 5am doing this and as late as 11:30pm and every time in between. I’ve left the house at 11am and returned 2 hours later to see him sitting in the same spot in front of his house with the engine still running. At night, I’ve seen him sitting in his driveway with the engine running, in reverse, with his foot on the brake pedal and his headlights shining on his garage door for 45 minutes before pulling out and leaving.
We’ve spoken once or twice. I know it’s not his only house. I know he has a “thick woman” (from the Marriage Ref) with a kid and a big momma who has only been sighted in a mu-mu a dozen times in two years.
I simply can’t think of any reason in the world why you would have to sit in your running vehicle that already only gets 20mpg when moving and 0mpg when sitting idling at your house. What could possibly be so special about the truck that isn’t available inside? There’s no bathroom, no refrigerator, no big screen TV.
Here are my best guesses:
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 what suggestions do we all hold to ourselves?
Just 11 years old, young Grace wrote to Abraham Lincoln just before his first election. Innocently, respectfully, and un-presumingly, that little girl told Lincoln that if he grew out his whiskers she could get more people to vote for him. Such honest words of a sweet appraisal of an adult she respected prompted Lincoln to complete the look engraved, stamped, and carved into countless memorials and depictions — a bearded Abe Lincoln.
