today's breed of tourist

Let's just say that I'd sell them the house if they coughed up the bucks, then warn my neighbors across the street to sell their house in a big hurry. They probably won't want a dirt-bike track so close.

I won't go so far as to say it's genteel on this street, but it's a peaceful and quiet, private and respectful bunch of residents. Well, except for our neighbor to the north, who likes to drive his big construction equipment around at all hours, all year long, but especially on balmy summer evenings. He's recently built a huge (RV-sized) illegal garage in the woods, which he shouldn't have cleared without papers from the Pinelands Commission.

The potential buyers were pleasant enough, though 15 minutes late for the half-hour appointment, which they then overstayed by 45 minutes. (It was cold out there with the pup.) I wasn't enamored of the way they whipped the garage doors up and then just walked away leaving it wide open. Something about them rubbed me the wrong way - a brashness, perhaps, or just a tiny hint of crude manners. I can't put my finger on it. They just seemed a little rough.

But I'd sell them the house, if they coughed up the bucks, and hope they commenced to cause some misery to the neighbors to the north.