He Blocked A Driveway For “Three Minutes”, Came Back To An Empty Street

A regular school pickup day turned into a small, glorious burst of driveway justice.

Picture this. You live on a quiet residential street that feeds directly into an elementary school. Every weekday at 3:30 pm, the road turns into a low-key traffic jam of SUVs, minivans, harried parents and hazard lights. Most people park along the curb and behave. Some do not. Some decide the end of your driveway is free real estate.

One neighbor, tired of this circus, even left business cards in everyone’s mailbox. He runs a tow truck and offered a special neighborhood service. Any car blocking a driveway between 2 pm and 4 pm? Call him. He will swoop in. No lecture. No argument. Just a hook and go.

For a while, our storyteller never used the card. Then one minivan decided that blocking a driveway for “three minutes” was fine. The curb was clear. The driveway was not. The tow truck was very ready.

Now, read the full story:

I get why your hands still shook a little. This was not just about a van. It was about repeat frustration, being treated as invisible on your own property, and finally flipping the script. You set a boundary with the tools you had: a tow guy, a phone, and the law on your side.

That small “what van?” moment probably felt like a decade of blocked driveways leaving your body.

This feeling of reclaiming your space, even in a petty way, is something many people in crowded neighborhoods understand very well.

Blocking a driveway is not a tiny social slip. In many places it is a traffic offence. Legal guides on neighborhood parking state that it is illegal to block driveways, mailboxes, hydrants, crosswalks and intersections, and that rules are often stricter on private streets.

Another overview of driveway laws notes that in the United States, blocking a driveway is generally illegal, even your own, because emergency vehicles need clear access. Some cities allow permits so residents can block their own driveways, which shows how serious the default rule is.

So when someone slides their minivan across your only entry point, they do more than annoy you. They interfere with your legal access to and from your home. That is why some councils now issue large fines and even tow cars that park over dropped kerbs and driveways. One Australian council recently doubled fines for blocking driveways after thousands of complaints.

People sometimes laugh these stories off as “first world problems,” but research tells a different story. Urban parking shortages and bad behavior increase accidents, delay traffic, and create serious access problems for residents.

Studies on urban parking report that on-street and curb-side parking are major contributors to congestion and daily frustration.

For people who live next to schools, stadiums or busy commercial strips, this is not occasional stress. It is daily life. When you drive home from work, carry groceries and try to pull in, then find your own driveway blocked, it adds another layer of pressure on top of everything else.

Private property owners in many regions can legally tow unauthorized vehicles from their land, especially when posted rules exist or when police confirm the violation. The twist in your story is that your neighbor runs a tow truck and specifically offered this as a neighborhood service during school pickup hours.

That means the social contract on your street is crystal clear. Everyone had the card. Everyone knew the risk.

The driver still chose to park across your driveway instead of on the open curb. That was not an emergency stop. That was “my convenience matters more than your access.”

When he returned, he went straight to insults. He claimed he was only gone for “three minutes.” Tow drivers hear that line constantly. One veteran operator shared that people often say they were parked for two minutes, even when the tow took longer than that just to arrive and hook the car.

This is customer entitlement in a neighborhood form. Customer entitlement describes exaggerated expectations of special treatment, even beyond reasonable limits or written rules.

 Research shows that dealing with entitled people produces physiological arousal, negative emotions, burnout and feelings of dehumanization in workers. Homeowners feel a similar emotional drag when neighbors or visitors treat their driveways like free waiting zones.

Ethically, you did not damage his property. You used a legal, pre-arranged solution. The van blocked your driveway, you called the tow, the driver removed it. Laughing and playing dumb afterward adds petty spice, but the core action stayed inside the rules.

Could you have told him directly, “You blocked my driveway, so I had it towed”? Sure. That might have led to an argument in front of his kid. Instead you chose silence, then a firm “f__k off” when he came back later. Emotionally messy, but understandable given his opening insult.

The deeper truth is this: if cities truly enforced driveway blocking with clear fines and prompt towing, residents would not feel pressured to play detective, negotiator and parking cop on their own streets. Until that happens, people will keep Terry’s card close.

Check out how the community responded:

This group did not care about the timeline. To them, blocking a driveway is always rude, and towing is fair game.

Others jumped in with their own tales of blocked garages, trapped residents and creative revenge.

A few commenters had towing experience or close calls, and they had zero sympathy for blockers.

This story may sound like simple petty revenge, but it carries a quiet truth about respect and space. A driveway is not a suggestion. It is a lifeline. It lets you go to work, get to the hospital, pick up kids, live your day. When someone blocks that space for their convenience, they steal a piece of your time and control.

You did not slash tires or scream. You used the system your neighbor set up. The driver gambled that his “quick stop” mattered more than your access. He lost the bet. The tow truck, and that little “what van?” moment, reminded him that other people exist.

Maybe he will think twice next school run. Maybe he will not. Either way, Terry’s card is still in your glove compartment, and a lot of readers secretly wish they had a Terry on their block too.

So what do you think? Would you have warned him first, or let the tow truck do the teaching like OP did? And if this happened in front of your house, would you call, or keep swallowing the frustration every time your driveway disappears?