My vintage car caught my neighbor’s attention, and not in a good way. Clearly irritated, he believed my treasured old sedan was an eyesore and rashly decided to handle the situation himself by freezing it solid overnight. That evening, however, he learned a memorable lesson from karma.
NEIGHBOR: “Sell that rusty car! It’s ruining the air quality for my kids!”
ME: “Really now? Are you offering to fund a new one for me?”
NEIGHBOR: “Get rid of it in a week, or I’ll do it for you!”
I chuckled at his “warning,” yet a week later, I stepped outside to discover my car encased in ice! No rain had fallen. I glanced over to see him smugly sipping coffee, commenting, “Better watch out—seems like it rains every night!”
I spent hours painstakingly removing the ice. His satisfied grin couldn’t last long though, as karma had a twist in store that night!
Close to midnight, I was awakened by an unusual noise—a great gush of water. Assuming he was pulling another prank, I peeked out my window.
What I saw made me laugh out loud!
A fire hydrant on the edge of his property had burst open, sending water surging over his house. The frigid night air began freezing the water instantly, wrapping his pristine home and fancy German SUV in a thick icy blanket.
Under the streetlights, the frozen droplets transformed his estate into a strange winter spectacle.
By dawn, curious onlookers from the neighborhood had gathered, some capturing the scene on their phones, others whispering to each other.
Tom stood in his driveway, desperately attempting to chip away at the ice with a small garden shovel, appearing quite disheveled in his stylish winter attire. His immaculate hair plastered to his forehead from sweat, despite the chill.
Watching his struggle, I thought of my dad’s wise words: kindness doesn’t cost a thing but its value is immeasurable. With that, I grabbed my trusty ice scraper and headed over.
“Need a hand?” I asked. “I’ve got some experience managing stuff like this.”
Tom looked up, taken aback yet wary. “After everything, why would you help me?”
I simply started scraping. “Seems I’m just a better neighbor than you.”
Together, we worked tirelessly, freeing his car and clearing his doorway. By dusk, we were exhausted but finally finished.
The following day, Tom knocked on my door, standing there nervously, making his pricey shoes creak.
“I owe you an apology,” he admitted. “I acted horribly. You didn’t have to help me, yet you did.” He pushed an envelope into my hands. “This is to thank you… and to make things right.”
Inside were $5,000 worth of crisp hundred-dollar bills.
“It’s for your car,” he quickly clarified. “Fix it up—or get a new one if you like. Consider it a truce. And… I’m sorry for saying you don’t belong here.”
I glanced at the money, then at my dad’s old sedan in the driveway.
“Thanks, Tom,” I replied, pocketing the envelope. “I know exactly what I’ll do with this.”
A week later, my beloved sedan shone with a fresh coat of paint, new tires, and a fully rebuilt engine. It now stood out more beautifully than ever, a restored classic amidst a slew of modern luxury cars.
Whenever Tom happened to gaze at it, I made sure to give the engine a good loud rev. Occasionally, he even offered a reluctant nod of respect.
Sometimes, the best revenge is simply no revenge at all.
