Dear neighbors, Hang in there, the kid will get his driver’s license next year
Dear neighbors: This is an open letter to all of our neighbors, whether you are just up the road or across the section (or two or three sections away).
Since we moved here nearly a year ago, we’ve really grown to love our new neighborhood and new surroundings.
We especially like the rolling hills and endless miles of grassy ditches and off-road dirt paths.
Those of you who have lived here all your life may not appreciate what you have, but we enjoy the landscape that lends itself to frequent open-air excursions.
On ATVs.
More specifically, the 14-year-old boy has enjoyed exploring the neighborhood.
… on his four-wheeler.
… with a custom performance racing exhaust.
… designed to make the small machine sound much larger.
You may have met him — or more likely heard him.
This is where the open letter to the neighborhood becomes an apology.
We’re sorry for all the quiet evenings that were shattered by the roar of an approaching ATV … that you could hear miles away.
We’re sorry about the dust.
You see, the only thing more fun than being heard on an ATV is being seen. And the more dust we stir up the more attention we attract.
The kid is especially proud of his after-market rims, so if you’re not too annoyed by the dust and noise, try to notice those and appreciate them. (Their beauty is lost on his mother who just doesn’t understand.)
And we’re sorry if he scared you by rearing up on two wheels while riding by.
I know. The first time I saw it I nearly had a coronary. It appears as if the kid’s going to dump the whole thing backward and break his neck.
And you finally exhale when the front two wheels land back on the ground.
I know. I’m sorry.
I realize it’s not easy having us in the neighborhood.
Our old neighborhood on the other side of the county was used to us. My boys had grown up there, so the neighbors had a chance to build tolerance as riders graduated from Hot Wheels to go-carts and then to ATVs.
Those were just the usual sounds in the hood. If a mom needed to be called, they had my number.
But you, dear neighbors, were jolted into your new reality of new noises, and for that I apologize.
We’re working on riding etiquette — no dust by residences (especially those with laundry on the line), idle slowly near sensitive cows and their babies, no donuts at intersections, the highway’s off limits and no wheelies at road gear.
The child has an older brother, and we’ve seen this phase before. It ended when he got his driver’s license. And he promptly switched to a loud pickup, which we hear only when he’s arriving home or departing for somewhere else.
So dear neighbors, if you can just bear with us a few more months, the kid will turn 16 next year in June.
And the silence will be deafening.