It took me a couple of weeks, but I found my two champions. The first was a heavily rusted-out bright teal minivan from the late ’90s. The sliding door was permanently stuck shut, the back window was covered in duct tape, and it smelled strongly of mildew. I bought it from a guy in a fast-food parking lot for $600 cash.
The second was a massive sedan from the ’80s. It was a faded yellow color with a vinyl roof that was peeling off in chunks. The muffler was half rusted away, making it sound like a tractor. That one cost me $500.
I took the titles down to the Department of Motor Vehicles and stood in line for three hours, paid the registration fees, and got standard license plates for both vehicles. I then called my insurance provider and put the absolute cheapest bare-minimum liability on both cars. They were now 100% street legal.
I drove the minivan home and parked it on the street a few blocks away from my house. Then I took an Uber back to the seller, picked up the yellow sedan, and parked it near the minivan. I waited.
The night before my wife and I were scheduled to fly out for our three-week vacation, the HOA board hosted their annual summer planning committee meeting at the community center. It was a Friday evening, and just as I expected the HOA president pulled onto our street in his massive white truck. He ignored the empty spaces down the block, drove right up to my property, and parked directly across my garage door. He hopped out and swaggered into the community center, and I watched him go inside.
Once the door closed behind him, I sprang into action. I told my wife it was time. She smiled, grabbed her purse, and followed me out the door. We walked down the block to where I had parked my two secret weapons. I tossed her the keys to the teal minivan and I got into the yellow sedan. We drove the two eyesores back to our house.
The HOA president had parked parallel to the curb right across the garage opening, and the public street extended perfectly straight in front of his truck and perfectly straight behind his truck. My wife pulled the teal minivan up to the front of his white truck and she expertly parallel parked it until the rear bumper of the minivan was resting exactly half an inch away from the front bumper of his truck. She turned off the engine, locked the doors, and handed me the keys.
I pulled the yellow sedan around to the back of his truck, and I backed up slowly, checking my mirrors constantly, until the front bumper of the sedan was resting exactly half an inch away from the rear bumper of his giant truck. I put it in park, turned off the engine, and locked the doors. We had completely sandwiched his truck. There was less than an inch of clearance on either end.
Because of the sheer size and length of his lifted vehicle, there was absolutely no angle for him to turn his wheels and maneuver out. He was completely trapped in front of my garage door. Both the minivan and the sedan were parked legally on the public street, and neither of them was blocking my garage. They were just occupying the curb space immediately adjacent to it. They were legally registered, fully insured, and parked according to all city ordinances.