Mr Vroom-vroom

With all the doors and windows closed, you can still hear it. A deep-throated roar not unlike distant thunder: Vroom! Vroom! Vroooooom! And so on. Sometimes for up to an hour at a time. After wondering what the hell was causing the din (I fantasised it was some sort of American muscle car, perhaps a Dodge Charger or Ford Mustang), I ventured out into our back lane and found the cause, a man dressed entirely in black, working on what clearly was the love of his life: a three-wheel motorcycle boasting, as he proudly informed me, a Rover three-and-a-half litre V8 engine. His rented garage (he doesn't live round here) lies about 50 metres up the street, but still the noise appears to be coming from right outside.  In addition, fumes from the engine drift down to us on the prevailing breeze to permeate our garden. On my first encounter I did not make any specific complaint; something in me was reluctant to interdict a man in the pursuit of his favourite hobby; besides there was an edge of aggression about him which was a little unsettling. For weeks I did nothing but seethe quietly.


Finally, after a particularly noisy session which lasted the better part of two hours I could take it no longer. I made my way round to his garage again and this time pointed out how his hobby was affecting the lives of the residents in the area.
"Nobody else has complained though. It's just you", he said. But then, in an astonishing piece of serendipity, at that very moment a neighbour and good friend appeared from the other end of the lane almost as if by magic, and added his voice of protest to mine. I could not resist remarking:
"It seems I am not the only person round here who is being affected by your activities."
At this point our mechanic began to advance on me slowly, brandishing a large screwdriver in his hand which he waved at me menacingly. My friend was quick to advise him to put the weapon down, at which point he flung it behind him with great force. And then, to conclude the debate, he returned to his machine and vroom-vroomed so loudly any further dialogue was impossible.


Much to my surprise, for the next few days we heard nothing, and wondered if the problem had been solved. Then, after nearly a fortnight of blissful calm, it began again- not as persistently as before, but still an unwanted intrusion. And that is where we are today. As I say, I don't wish to stop anyone in pursuing their hobby, unless it interferes with my right to a certain amount of peace and quiet. But the intrusion is less than it was. So, as I have done so often in the past with neighbourhood problems, I guess I shall simply wait it out, if for no other reason than I don't wish to be shanked with a twelve inch screwdriver...