He was holding court in his driveway, telling two guys I had a personal problem with success. So I let him have his moment, and then I told him code enforcement had my nine weeks of photos and had scheduled an inspection of the property for Tuesday.
Because I had not argued on the internet. I took pictures, the four dead cars on blocks, the tires stacked to the window, and the rat I caught in my own garage, all dated. Nine weeks of it. And I found out the town has limits on inoperable vehicles on a residential lot and a whole code about harboring vermin.
For nine weeks the only thing I had lacked was proof the rats were coming from his lot to mine, and the moment I had nine weeks of dated photos and a rat in my own garage, the snob who thinks he is better became a documented vehicle-and-vermin case the town had to inspect.
He had sold the neighborhood the story that I looked down on a man who works on cars, while his wife called out big cheerful hellos whenever I had company. But code enforcement does not read the neighborhood page, and rats do not respect a property line.
I did not argue online and I did not argue in the driveway. I said, code enforcement has nine weeks of photos, the cars, the tires, and the rat I caught in my garage. They are inspecting Tuesday. The town limits inoperable vehicles on a residential lot and it has a code about vermin. You can say I have a problem with success, but the town is going to look at the corner now.
The photos were the photos. There is no problem-with-success-ing your way out of four cars on blocks and a documented rat problem crossing to a yard where kids play.
The town did what my one friendly mention never could. The inspection cited the inoperable vehicles and the conditions harboring vermin, and the man was ordered to clear the dead cars, remove the tire piles, and deal with the infestation on his own lot.
The corner is clean now. The cars are gone, the tires are gone, and pest control cleared out what had been nesting there. The rats stopped coming to my garage, which is the whole reason I ever started, because my grandkids play in that yard in the summer.
He can work on a car in his driveway like anyone; he just cannot run a junkyard that sends rats to the children next door. Nine weeks of that ended not with an internet fight, but with nine weeks of quiet photos and a Tuesday inspection, and it turned out the snob with a problem with success was just a grandfather keeping the rats away from his grandkids.