Last month, my daughter and her husband moved into my house while their own home was being gutted for renovation. My driveway was small, so I gave them the space and parked my old Toyota on the public street instead. There were no restrictions, no blocked driveways, and no signs saying I couldn’t park there. One evening, the only open curb happened to be directly in front of my neighbor Deborah’s house. The next morning, she appeared at my door carrying coffee and told me I would regret parking there again.

I explained that the car was legally parked and that I was only doing it because my daughter needed the driveway. Deborah said she didn’t care about the law because the “rust bucket” ruined her view whenever she looked through her window. I thought she was joking. She wasn’t. Deborah had a reputation for making neighborhood rules herself. She had once thrown away someone’s flowerpots and had even tossed my granddaughter’s bicycle into the trash because it had been left on my lawn. Still, I tried to keep the peace. But the following night, after work, I parked on the street again—and by dawn, Deborah had decided to make good on her warning.