I went out with a bad feeling and noticed that he actually had two flat tires. Very, very flat tires.
He rushed to get things together for work and I said I'd take a closer look and maybe call the police, since two tires don't usually go flat by themselves.
Then Joe noticed that our neighbor up the street had flat tires, too, and said that yeah, I had probably better call the police.
All in all, three houses on our street got hit. The tires have been stabbed. One of Joe's was stabbed something like ten times, which I find especially depressing for some reason. The police came out and took pictures.
I don't know why they left my car alone, but I'm glad they did, since the baby is due to come anytime. I'm not quite sure how they decided on the number of tires to flatten on each vehicle or the exact cars to hit at each house, but I don't think the houses they hit were chosen at random.
I think someone may be retaliating against us for something we didn't do. And I don't know if they're going to stop, or if there's much we can do about it.
But, nice things:
- A woman across the street came out of her house this morning and asked what was going on when she saw the police cars. She was horrified on our behalf, even though I don't know her very well, which kind of reassured me.
- The folk at the other houses that were hit are great, as I knew already. Men at both houses offered to lend me their air compressors, and then when it became clear the tires were damaged, one of them offered to jack up Joe's car and help with the repairs. I think Joe and I will probably take care of it ourselves this evening (well, mostly Joe with me watching, most likely), but the offer was a really nice one.