The Flight of Driveway Guy

Driveway Guy's car blew a head gasket some time later (I heard all about it from Megan, who had to walk home five miles in the rain while he tried to finagle a tow), and the truck he'd been working on finally showed up in the driveway.

It was a compact truck, nothing like the jacked-up F-150 from before.  (This was the truck he parked on the back lawn and ran into the house, breaking the siding - on my list of summer projects.)  After a short period of time, he got a cap for it at well, though he was still sleeping in the cab.

He handed me a business card one day, with his cell phone number advertising his services as a "handyman".  "You need anything done, just let me know." 

I had hopes this was a sign for the positive - there was significantly less barf in the driveway, the handyman business seemed to be starting up, so I had hopes that maybe he was getting his life together.

The downside was, with the weather warming up, the usual crew of people hanging out with Driveway Guy was no longer limited to who could fit in his truck.  I started parking on the street after finding a beer can inside my car, which I distinctly remembered locking the night before. 

And then one day, driving home, I was passed by Driveway Guy heading the opposite direction at top speed and driving like his ass was on fire.  I pulled into the driveway, and looked down at the deep gouges in the driveway from where he'd clearly pulled out in a hurry.

He passed by the house slowly, but when he started to pull in, the door to Mary's apartment swung open, and Savannah, the younger daughter (16), came running out.  "I meant it, you goddamn fucking bastard!!!!!!!  I've got my phone RIGHT FUCKING HERE!!!!!"

A squeal of tires, and he was gone.

She looked at me, and I looked at her.  "Holy crap - what did he do?"

She glared at his tailgate as he sped down the road.  "Bastard stole my debit card and took out about 60 bucks.  Told him if I ever saw him here again I was pressing charges of breaking and entering and theft."

"That's serious."

"Yep.  And since he's still on probation...that's some serious jail time.  It's worth the 60 bucks to have him out of my sister's life.  I'm amazed you never called when he was smoking weed in the driveway."

I shrugged.  "If he'd been alone, I would have.  Megan was always with him."

She nodded.  "Well, he won't be coming back."

And he didn't.  Megan started seeing another guy a few months later, and I saw her in the foyer doing laundry.  She looked a lot healthier - no bags under the eyes, smiling - and I told her.

"Yeah, everyone was kinda worried about me.  But thanks."

I keep scanning the local paper to see if he shows up in the court rundown, but nothing so far.  Fingers crossed it stays that way.