Our mailbox and the neighbor’s mail box were the kind that look like aluminum domes mounted to a pole near the end of the driveway. The two boxes were on separate poles but right next to each other.
    Before I get started, I should mention that the school bus stopped on the paved cross-road that was about four houses down the road from our house. Not very far to walk. Probably less than a tenth of a mile. Which seemed like hundreds of miles in the winter when the wind blew and snow was up to your knees.
    Anyway, three sets of busses picked up and dropped off kids from that school district. The high schoolers got out early and arrive at home an hour before the junior high schoolers. I was in junior high at the time. Then an hour later the elementary schoolers were dropped off. My brother and sister came home then.
    One day I came home from school and stopped by the mailbox to grab the mail before walking the long driveway to the house. I noticed that the mailbox door was open and bent under the mailbox. Yikes.
    Of course, I told my parents of the “problem” that needed to be fixed because I was probably 11 and didn’t fix anything around the house without dad’s supervision. Dad went out and grumbled but bent the door back straight so it would close.
    The next day, following my habit, I stopped by the mailbox. The door was bent back under the mailbox again. Now, things became very focused. I mean, the neighbor’s box, which was right next to hours (probably a whole inch of space between them) was undamaged. And, if you recall from the snowball incident the neighbor boys ranged in age where their youngest was my age. He was in junior high like me and his two older brothers were in high school. Any dimwit could put two-and-two together and figure out who the culprit was.
    Anyway, I don’t remember if I just bent it up and reported to my parents or if I just reported it and dad went out and bent it back. But that was the end of it for the day.
    The next day: Door bent back under.
    I need to mention something else in this: My dad worked second shift at General Motors. So he left for work around two or three in the afternoon. Which was before the high schoolers got home. Mom was home, but I don’t think she was paying much attention to this issue. I know for a fact that my dad would have hid in the bushes and ambushed whoever was bending the mailbox lid, because that’s he rolls and I have to admit, I’d do the same thing. Except, I’m a technology person. Soooo, I’d probably rig the box to make a loud bang with a remote control, or take a long-range photo, or mount a speaker inside and yell at the kid. So many possibilities these days.
    Ahem. Back to the story…
    As you can predict this daily even continued until the mailbox door broke off. You can only bend metal back and forth so many times before it gives up the ghost and breaks. Dad was angry about it, but that was nothing compared to the next day when there was a note in the box from the mailman that they would not deliver mail to a box that had no functional door. The door was there to keep the rain out and keep the mail from blowing out of the box on windy days.
    Dad went to the hardware store and bought a new box. These things are not terribly expensive. Lowe’s currently have them for $28. So they probably went for anywhere between 6 to $12 back in 1975. My parents discussed what to do about it, but it was a small purchase item that didn’t warrant the police or a lawyer, and so on. Anyway, he mounted the box the next morning and assumed that was that.
    The next day when I came home, there was a shiny new metal box in place of our old box. Not that a new mailbox was unusual, but the only time you would normally have to replace one is when it got too rusty or the snow plow took it out. Those snow plows were unkind to mailboxes.
    As I approached the new box, I noticed that the door was bent under. Oh, this was never going to end. I bet the neighbor kid was snickering as he bent the new lid. I’m not sure what his endgame was, but he really didn’t understand my dad at all.
    Remember, my dad worked second shift for General Motors, so he got home around midnight. Oh boy, was he mad. He knew that this was never going to end unless he made them pay the same price that he was paying. In a sane world, the parents of that kid would have to pay for a new mailbox and the kids would get disciplined from the parents (maybe take it out of their allowance money). But dad knew that their mother would deny it and he didn’t have enough “proof” to do something about it. And, he was already so angry that he couldn’t wait for a confrontation with the parents. So he did what any angry person would do: he grabbed his tin snips and went out in the dark and cut up the door to their mailbox. Then he threw the pieces in their gravel driveway. He was hoping they would puncture a tire with it and make a fuss, but that never happened. In fact, our mailbox stopped bending itself and we never heard from their parents.
    A day later and they had a new shiny mailbox as well. Isn’t that curious? Maybe one of the kids didn’t want to get caught so he rode his bike to the hardware store and bought a new one, then installed it before his dad discovered they weren’t getting their mail. Somehow I don’t see that being the case.