And now every day that passed increased the bill.
But Clifton wasn't finished.
The GTO's company had listed potential future lakefront storage facilities among its anticipated assets.
My property was being treated as a business opportunity.
Then Vern found something worse.
A draft easement.
It proposed permanent HOA access across my lakefront.
It had never been recorded.
Because it needed my signature.
Which they didn't have.
I sat alone that evening, looking at the lake.
My grandfather had bought this land with a handshake.
He had never imagined someone would try to take it through paperwork.
I called Clifton.
"I don't want to simply win."
"What do you want?"
"I want this to be a lesson."
He was quiet.
"Public?"
"Documented."
"Final?"
"Exactly."
"Then I'll start drafting."
The trap was ready.
Now we just needed to let Renata walk into it.
Let the Meter Run
I became obsessive about documentation.
Every Friday, I mailed an updated invoice.
Every invoice was certified.
Every receipt was saved.
Every photograph was dated.
Every scratch on every car was documented.
I installed four security cameras around the garage.
I filed a formal trespass report with the county sheriff.
I photographed the vehicles from every angle.
The Chevelle had a small dent near the rear quarter panel.
The Mustang had old paint damage.
The GTO was partially disassembled.
Everything went into the evidence file.
Meanwhile, the bill grew.
$3,375.
$4,500.
$6,000.
Renata still didn't pay.
Vern began talking to other landowners.
Soon fourteen people were paying attention.
Some were HOA members.
Others weren't.
Then a local journalist became interested.
Her name was Delphine Marsh.
She wrote a regional column called Your Property, Your Rights.
I showed her the documents.
She studied them carefully.
Finally, she asked:
"When are you going public?"
I gave her a date.
"I'll be there," she said.
The garage began to feel like a museum.
Three classic cars.
Four cameras.
One spreadsheet.
And an invoice quietly climbing toward something much larger.
Every morning I checked the cameras.
Updated the spreadsheet.
Then went to work.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Renata had no idea how expensive her mistake was becoming.
Renata Goes to War
In January, Renata held a community meeting.
She called it a:
Community Property Rights Briefing.
Vern attended.
According to him, she displayed a map with my property highlighted in yellow.
The legend called it:
NON-COOPERATIVE PARCEL.
She told the room that my property belonged to the HOA.
Then Beaumont Doyle stood.
Beaumont was a retired contractor.
He had one question.
"Where is the owner's signed consent?"
Renata answered:
"The board vote constituted community consent."
Beaumont shook his head.
"That isn't an answer."
Renata didn't like that.
A few days later, she reported my garage to the zoning board.
She claimed the renovations were illegal.
Fortunately, I had every permit.
The inspector arrived.
He walked through the garage.
Checked the documents.
Looked at the lift.
Then he said:
"Everything looks fine."
His official report was even better.