Posted by Jim at September 12th, 2004

I’ve never quite gotten the deep love of lawns that some men apparently feel. Basically, I have one and my great hope is that it looks okay rather than like a golf course. I use a pushmower and am mostly unbothered by the side effects of that decision.

Not everyone has such low standards.

I ran into a person with much higher standards in the process of attending a friend’s wedding yesterday. The reception turned out to be in a banquet hall in Alto, Michigan–not too far from Grand Rapids. We enjoyed driving out there, amused by the rural roads, the suburban sprawl (large houses on large lots), and the prominence of Bush-Cheney 2004 signs.

Just after passing a railcar that had been converted to an ice cream shop, we noticed the banquet hall. Unfortunately, we didn’t notice it quickly enough and drove past.

Fortunately, the next house down the road had not one, but two driveways. The first driveway was occupied by several cars and pickup trucks so I used the second. The second driveway ended in a large garage that had a sign saying “Hank’s Towing.” It began in concrete for the first foot, but continued as grass for the remaining twenty feet or so. This is fairly typical this far out in the country.

It seemed a good place to turn around.

As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that the grass on this driveway was quite green. In fact, the dirt ruts that I’d expected to run from the road to the garage simply did not exist. I also noticed that 5-10 people were watching me from the pool. They ranged from young to old. I had apparently intruded on some sort of family gathering.

I made a three point turn on the grass and drove away, feeling like an idiot.

It took bare moments to reach the banquet hall. After parking, Kristen and I began to pull Abby (3) and Rebecca (2) out of the car. They had both fallen asleep. Abby was in my arms, her head on my shoulder and still half-sleeping, when a pickup truck stopped behind our car.

A man leaned out of the window and shouted, “How would you like it if I turned around on your lawn?”

“It looked like a driveway,” I said.

Then he said a number of things I don’t remember, all of them delivered at the same volume, and ending with “Next time why don’t you drive slower, so you see where you’re going.”

Then he gunned his truck and left the parking lot.

Later, Kristen mentioned that the first thing she thought when he stopped was “I wonder if he’s got a gun?”

She also asked, “Do you think you could have defended yourself if he’d attacked you?”

I stopped just short of a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I am trained in that sort of thing, but there aren’t a lot of moves that work well when you’re holding a sleeping three year old girl.

The guy was definitely more muscular looking than I am. My best shot if he’d attacked would have been to strike something that would immediately take him out. If that didn’t work, I’d have had to avoid getting drawn into a wrestling match that I’d almost certainly lose.

Most of the moves I’d have tried would have had the potential to kill or maim if they’d worked. Best that I never had the opportunity.

Still, it seems a bit excessive to attack someone who drove over your lawn, so he probably wouldn’t have. Of course, to me it seems excessive to follow someone who drove over your lawn and chew them out when they stop…

All I can do now is digest the situation. It’s hard to explain it. What do you even call it? It wouldn’t be an example of road rage (via Nate), but “lawn rage” sounds kind of stupid. Oh well… Whatever the case, I now know that the existence of a garage doesn’t automatically mean a driveway exists as well.