HOA Kept Blocking My Garage Door — So I Taught Them a Lesson They Never Forgot!
My wife and I moved into our neighborhood a few years ago, thrilled to finally own a home. It had a big backyard, a newly renovated kitchen, a two-car garage, and a wide driveway that could comfortably fit our vehicles. We are on a corner lot, which gives us a bit more space, but it also comes with a unique geographical quirk. Our house sits directly next to the neighborhood community center and the community pool.
At first, we didn’t think this would be an issue. The community center has its own parking lot, and we assumed people would just use that. For the first few months, everything was great. The neighborhood was quiet, the people we met were friendly, and we were busy settling into our new routine.
Then the annual neighborhood association elections happened, and a new group of people took over the board. The new HOA president was a guy who treated his unpaid volunteer position like he had just been crowned the king of the subdivision. I refer to him simply as the HOA president. He was the kind of guy who drove a massive lifted white pickup truck that looked like it had never seen a speck of mud or hauled a single piece of cargo in its life. The truck had huge tires, obnoxiously bright headlights, and a custom exhaust that rattled our windows whenever he drove by.
The problem started when the new board began hosting weekly meetings and social events at the community center. The small parking lot at the center would fill up quickly, and the overflow parking would spill out onto the street. Parking on the street is perfectly legal in our city, provided you follow the basic rules of the road. However, the HOA president decided that he didn’t want to walk all the way from the overflow parking areas down the block.
Instead, he decided that the space directly in front of my garage door was his own personal VIP parking space. He would pull that lifted white truck so close to the garage that the door could not finish opening, and even when the door managed to rise, the front of his bumper sat so tight against the apron that there was no way to roll a car out of the garage.
The first time it happened, it was a Saturday morning. I hit the garage door opener and watched the door climb halfway before it stopped against the visual wall of his truck. I walked out through the side door and saw this giant white wall of metal sitting inches from the garage opening. There was absolutely no way I could pull either car out without hitting him.
I locked the house and walked over to the community center. I poked my head into the main meeting room where about ten people were sitting around folding tables. I asked loudly who owned the lifted white truck blocking my garage door, and the HOA president looked up, looking extremely annoyed that I had interrupted him.