On their first night in a new rental, Jack and I met our neighbor Lindsey—cookies in hand, smile too bright. Within minutes, she reminded us of a strict HOA rule: only one car in the driveway, even if two fit. We thanked her politely but ignored the warning.
Three days later, the screech of tow trucks jolted us awake. Both our cars were being hauled away. And there she was—Lindsey—standing smugly on the sidewalk in her fleece, watching like she’d won. Her satisfaction was unmistakable.
But as the trucks pulled off, another car screeched to a stop. Out stepped a furious man in a suit, waving paperwork, demanding to know who called in the violation. Lindsey’s triumph evaporated instantly.
