During 40 of my 76 years on the planet, I was called Lord Boyle, not because I was related to royalty, but because I was a rental landlord.
We read about a lot of nastiness between tenants and landlords. My relationships with most of my tenants were both positive and friendly.
Years ago, an Army General and I owned a single-family rental property in partnership. Our tenant had a couple of well-behaved boys. With mom’s permission, I gave each young boy a ride on my Harley-Davidson Sportster 1200 Custom motorcycle.
It is easy to understand how I developed an excellent rapport with these two young boys.
One day I was pressure washing the back patio of this same rental house. The boys were playing in the yard.
Seeing a creative opportunity, I seized the day by pressure washing the boys’ names on the patio. I called them over. They were so excited they ran and shared their newfound notoriety with their mother.
Everyone had a fun time with my harmless stunt. I do not know about the boys, but I will never forget the fun I brought into the lives of these two boys with a little water and a little imagination.
Years later, I rode my Harley-Davidson Peace Officer Edition Road King to a friend, Tom’s house in Kentucky. During that week, my pal, Tom, needed to pressure wash his driveway. I volunteered to help because I had operated pressure washers for years and besides I was sleeping at his house and eating out of his refrigerator for free.
While running the pressure washing gun, my previous pressure washing monogram stunt from years ago with the two boys came to mind.
I had no choice. It was not my fault. I pressure washed Tom’s wife’s name, Karen, into her concrete driveway.
When Karen returned home from work and turned into her driveway, I got her big time. The occasion triggered many laughs and abundant repeat storytelling over the years. I even featured my pressure wash monogram stunt in the poem I wrote for Karen’s retirement party.
That was five or six years ago. We laughed about it and talked about it for years without ever forgetting the look on Karen’s face when she discovered her newfound notoriety.
I was put to the test yesterday. It is common knowledge that I can dish out a stunt without hesitation, but the question is, can I take it when a stunt targets me?
Karen got me. I never expected to be hit with a stunt from 1949 miles away. And it is years after I got Karen with my pressure washing stunt. It looks like Karen has a long memory.
Now my name is printed in giant letters so large; it can be seen from outer space.
My only concern is I can’t confirm my theory from the photo that it is indeed my friend Karen who as one of my previous stunt victims is trying to pay me back. The picture only shows the pressure washer suspect’s feet and ankles.
I sent a closely cropped photo of the pressure washer operator’s feet and ankles to the Top Secret FBI Podiatry Investigation Unit. Most citizens are not even aware the FBI has such a clandestine investigative unit. The FBI started with footprints and expanded from there.
I pulled a lot of gags and stunts on my friends and neighbors over the years. If all of them catch wind that Karen was able to pay me back, I am probably in for substantial multiple paybacks.
Oh boy! I am especially nervous about the stunt I played on my former neighbor using a toilet and a handmade dummy.
If you get a chance to burn a friend’s name into concrete with a pressure washer, take the risk. The laugh will be worth it. Send me a photo of their facial reaction. I know it will be priceless.