At 4am Monday night/ Tuesday morning we awoke to sirens blaring and police lights flashing in our neighborhood. We were still half asleep, but we could tell that cars were going by our house very quickly. Still, it wasn’t enough to get us out of bed. When we heard the same thing about two minutes later and the sirens and flashing lights stopped in our cul-de-sac, we thought maybe we should investigate.
It turns out there was a high speed chase through our neighborhood, that ended a few doors down from us. The guy being chased must have turned down our street not realizing it was a dead end. He drove into our neighbor’s front lawn, bailed from the car, and tried to run, but they caught him pretty quickly.
By the time we made it outside with the rest of our neighbors (all of us standing on the sidewalk in our pajamas), he was in hand cuffs and his car was surrounded by eight police cars. It was quite a bit of excitement for our sleepy little suburban neighborhood. Amazingly, neither baby woke up, even though this was all happening 50 feet from Zoe’s bedroom window.
We looked in the paper the next day and didn’t find anything about it. Neighborhood gossip is that it was the live-in boyfriend of another neighbor, and that he isn’t a great guy.
We’re told that there was a lot more excitement in the neighborhood before we moved in. The people that we purchased the house from were getting divorced after 26 years. The guy had some sort of mid-life crisis, and our neighbor’s affectionately called him “Mid-Life.” He had an MBA and had been a bank VP, but then he quit his job, started working out, bought a Harley, found a girlfriend, and started partying.
Back then the police were frequent visitors. Mid-Life wrecked the motorcycle on our street a couple of times (we’re told that once he injured his leg pretty badly, but he left the bike in the street and walked home bleeding to avoid being arrested for drinking and driving). He also broke down the front door once when his wife had locked him out, smashed his daughter’s car windshield with a baseball bat, and liked to wash his bike in the driveway wearing only boxers while kids were at the corner bus stop. Even though we’ve lived in the house for four years, neighbors still know it as Mid-Life’s house. Our neighbor across the street told us that his teenage son was disappointed when he saw the for-sale sign go up in the yard. He said, “Dad, what are we going to do now for entertainment?”
When we closed on the house, Mid-Life showed up with a shaved shiny head and a goatee. He was wearing heavy black boots, dark jeans, and a Godfather t-shirt. He had a thick gold and diamond hoop in one ear and a heavy gold chain with a five inch gold and diamond cross that you would only expect to see on a hip hop star. He wore several large gold and diamond rings.
Sadly, but not surprisingly, Mid-Life died when he wrecked his motorcycle about a month after we bought the house. I happened to be coming home from one of Christian’s shows about half an hour after the accident and saw the bike lying in the middle of the road a few miles from our house, surrounded by police cars. Mid-Life had already been taken away. It was creepy. Creepier was that fact that people sent flowers to our house thinking that the family still lived there, and that someone came to try to re-posses his car. We have re-done almost everything inside of the house since he lived there, but we still have this motorcycle wallpaper border in the garage that I have been meaning to get rid of. I really should do that one of these days…