“If you don’t, township code enforcement calls in a private tow truck.”

I walked out of the community center without saying another word and headed the four blocks home through the neighborhood under a clear morning sun.

By noon two black-and-white township police cruisers sat along the curb in front of my lawn.

Trent was standing at the bottom of my driveway, rocking back and forth on his toes in his white cross-training shoes.

He reached into the open bed of his father’s pickup, grabbed a bright orange plastic cone, and slammed it down in the middle of my concrete parking apron.