Sometimes, the best revenge is simple: park a rusty F-150 and wait for karma to take its course. My grandfather, Lionel, had lived in his cozy hillside home for over 40 years. Everything around the house, from the oak tree planted when my mom was born to the hand-made wind chimes, had a story. Then came the bulldozers. My grandma called one afternoon, worried that the construction crew was cutting into their land. Grandpa contacted the contractor, but the man dismissed his concerns, arrogantly saying, “Sue me.” As weeks went by,
the construction continued, and no one apologized or even acknowledged Grandpa’s concerns. It was clear: the disrespect wasn’t about land—it was about principle.Grandpa didn’t want to get involved in a legal battle, but I knew something had to be done. Then, Patrick, a neighbor and friend,