For six months, my neighbor Linda treated my driveway like overflow parking for her house.
At first, it was occasional.
Then her enormous black SUV started appearing regularly—sometimes staying overnight directly outside my window.
I lived alone after losing my husband, Robert, two years earlier.
My sedan stayed inside the garage, so most of the driveway was empty…
Apparently, Linda decided that meant I didn’t need it.
I asked her politely to stop.
When that failed, I installed a **PRIVATE DRIVEWAY** sign.
She ignored that too.
Then one Thursday morning, I walked outside and discovered her SUV blocking my car.
I had a specialist appointment I’d waited two months to get.
By the time Linda moved her vehicle, I’d missed it.
When I confronted her, she shrugged.cafar
“You barely use the driveway anyway.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Because she was right about one thing.
I hadn’t been using it.
But she had no idea why.
Robert had been a machinist who loved classic cars.
For decades, he restored an old Pontiac in our detached garage, spending countless evenings adjusting, polishing, rebuilding and occasionally swearing at parts that refused to cooperate.
