They guy down the street from us has a Harley. A really loud one. Although, let’s be honest here, is there any other kind?
I’ve been known to blast some loud punk music in my time (confidential to anyone I ever lived with in college: I’m sorry. So very, very sorry), so I can sortof understand his decision to drive a motorcycle that makes a chain-saw sound like an ocean breeze. I don’t have to find it pleasant, but I can somewhat understand.
What I can’t understand is why he chooses to ride his bike at four in the flipping morning. On a weeknight.
Perhaps he is an insomniac and wants to rest of us to join him in his sleeplessness. Perhaps he thinks that his bike would break all sorts of noise ordinances and wants to take it out when there are fewer cops around. I’d wonder if he was a vampire, but I saw him in the daylight today and he neither burst into flames nor into sparkles, and that pretty much covers all of the possible vampire scenarios.
Maybe he does it just to torture me.
And Kristian.
But mostly me.
The best part is that his bike apparently takes ten minutes to warm up, so I get to here it rumbling along for a good ten to fifteen minutes at four in the morning. By the time he’s finally driven off, I’ve exhausted my stock of swear words (in both English and foreign languages) and my brain has pretty much checked out. I’m like a sleep-deprived, irate zombie.
Part of me wants to walk down to his house and say, “You know, I think you should get that bike of yours checked out. It seems to take an awfully long time to warm up. And it’s on the loud side. In fact, we can hear it clear as day from four houses away. In our bedroom. At FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” And then I would hit him with a rolled up newspaper and say, “NO!”
Although, corporal punishment as training method is pretty passé. I suppose that I’d have to use a clicker with him.
Or maybe I could just kick over his bike. Or pay someone to steal it. He does seem to leave it sitting in front of his house an awful lot of the time.
Or, I could write a scathing blog post about him for all of the internets to see.
That’ll learn him but good.
Ugh, on the one-way street we lived on in Brooklyn, a guy used to accelerate his motorcycle so loudly it would set off all the car alarms on the street, also at like 4 in the morning. You could hear him go around the corner, up the next block, and back down our street over and over. I guess that’s how you were supposed to hear how big his penis was.
We don’t have anyone with a Harley living near us…but the church parking lot behind our house is used as a staging ground for Rolling Thunder. On the one hand that limits the whole loud reving thing to once a year…but multiply the noise by about 100+ bikes…
I really wonder about people sometimes. How can he NOT know that he’s waking the entire neighborhood up at 4am?
Dude, you totally showed him!! Take that jerkface!
dog poop in the exhaust pipe.
DO IT.
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The rolled up newspaper and a firm, “NO!” is the most fantastic idea to use on inconsiderate, oblivious people. I think I’m going to start doing that on the train.
“You’re sitting in a handicapped seat looking perfectly able while this pregnant woman holds onto the grab-bar for dear life? *Swat* ‘NO!'” hehe
If all else fails, a spritz with a water bottle works pretty well. 😉