This answer doesn’t completely fit the question, since we’re not talking about a neighbor per se, but I just can’t resist.

About 7 years ago I bought a “go-fast” boat. A 1990 Checkmate Vision 221. Even though it was 24 years old at the time, it was in excellent condition and I snagged it at a very fair price.

I must have been around 57 years old then and had wanted such a boat since I first saw a Donzi when I was 18 or so. It was a long time to wait.

After I got all of the licensing requirements squared away, I was ready to go. It was a Saturday and oppressively hot, around 95 degrees, but I wasn’t deterred. I brought plenty of water, a sandwich and headed to the biggest lake in Connecticut; which was about an hour away.

To say that my expectations were exceeded is an understatement. The boat looked beautiful. It ran excellent. Sounded better. And I had a spectacular time running up and down the lake… Looking at the beautiful homes, enjoying the sun and testing my driving skills.

It was later in the afternoon and I was headed back to the boat launch facility. I was maybe a mile away, and pretty much worn-out, when the engine cut-out and stalled. And it wouldn’t restart.

Unfortunately, I was relatively close to shore and there was a breeze pushing me towards land. Before long I was up to the shore line with tree branches hanging over and inside the boat.

I had opened the engine hatch to see if anything was obviously amiss but it all looked good. I had also called both of the Marinas on the lake and left messages to see if they could come tow me in. And had even telephoned the Department of Environmental Protection, who patrols the lake and is responsible for our waterways, but was told there was nothing they could do.

I kept trying to start the boat. It would eventually start but ran horrible and then would stall. And the exhaust smelled terrible from the engine misfiring.

Boaters are generally a good crowd and more than willing to lend assistance. But being on the shore line and buried in trees, no one knew I was there. So Good Samaritan help was not very promising.

I should mention that I was around 75 feet away from someone’s dock. And there was a pathway leading up a slight hill to what I presume was a lovely lake home. I could not see it because of the trees.

It was very tempting to inch my way over to the dock since I was getting scraped unmercifully by the tree branches. But it wouldn’t have been right; intruding on someone’s property.

Every so often I would try to start the boat. Eventually it would fire, run horrible and loud for 5 or 10 seconds and then stall. And that smelly exhaust!!!

Maybe after my 5th or 6th attempt to start the boat, a slight woman about 75 years old appeared on the dock…. And just screamed.

The gist of her yelling centered on the fact I had no business being where I was, my boat was loud, obnoxious, the exhaust smelled foul and I was ruining their perfect Saturday afternoon.

The screaming and yelling I could deal with but her sentence structure was punctuated by frequent use of the F-word. She was letting it fly about every third word. It was probably the foulest tongue lashing I ever received. And please understand…. I’m no shrinking violet.

After she finished her tirade, I did my best to remain calm and just said; “Madam, do you honestly believe I want to be here in this situation?”

Before she had a chance to retort, a lovely family came slowly cruising along the shore line and saw I was in need of help. I gave them a wave.

Ms. F-bomb’s husband had wandered down a bit before looking thoroughly whipped and beaten. He never said a word. But as soon as he saw these potential Good Samaritans he became quite animated and started jumping up and down and waving. Because I’m certain he wanted me to get my fucking boat as far away from his fucking house as humanly fucking possible so he could get some fucking peace and quiet and so his wife would shut the fuck up. Sorry!!!

These good folks threw me a tow line and had me where I needed to be in about 15 or 20 minutes. I tried throwing the Dad a couple of twenties so he could treat the kids to ice cream. But he said no…. “Just please pay it forward.” And I have… Several times!!!

Since that event, I’ve been back to that beautiful lake many times. And somehow I’ve always remembered exactly where that woman’s house was located. And despite my seemingly kind and conservative nature, my lack of pettiness and inherent evil, I have been unable to restrain myself from “buzzing” her dock at about 65 or 70 mph. Somehow it’s given me a lot of personal satisfaction each time… :-)

Oh… the problem with the boat? It was an easy and cheap fix. Because of the lengthy run that day and extreme heat, the electronic module inside of the distributor started shorting out. Melting actually. When I got home the boat started immediately since it had cooled down. But the problem was pretty easy to spot. And it cost about 75 bucks and an hour of my time to fix.