My Neighbors Wrapped My Car in Tape after I Asked Them to Stop Parking in My Spot — I Did Not Let It Slide

For over twenty years, my neighborhood had been my sanctuary.
The place where I raised my grandson, Harry, after losing my wife, Margaret, to cancer.

The place where I found peace in quiet evenings and familiar faces. That peace, however, shattered the day Jack moved in next door.

From the moment he arrived with his twenty-something son, Drew, I sensed trouble. Jack had the kind of entitled swagger that made my skin crawl, and his arrogance soon became my problem—specifically, when he started parking in my designated spot.

“Hey, Jack,” I said, keeping my tone light the first time. “That spot is reserved for me. It’s clearly marked.”

Minutes later, Jack and Drew were being escorted to the station.

As we told the story, filling in every glorious detail, Harry burst out laughing.

“Grandpa, you’re a legend.”

I took another sip of my coffee, satisfied.

Damn right, I was.