“GET HIM ED!” Matt roared from somewhere behind me.

“I’m trying!” I shouted back. I had no idea how close Matt was; my entire focus was on the kid up ahead, racing away on his bike in terror as two angry maniacs chased him down the street. I saw something hanging down from his hand. “You better drop that, motherfucker!” I yelled. And surprisingly, he did.

By that time he was too far for Matt and I to even think about hoping to dream about catching him. Matt and I slowed to a walk.

“What the hell, Ed? You’re supposed to be the runner!” Matt teased, out of breath.

“Yeah, but I just got done running fourteen miles!” I wheezed back.

We walked up to where the thing had been dropped. Some kids who were playing in their front yard picked it up and were looking at it when we got there. It was a CD player and tape adapter. Matt looked at me. “Dude, that ain’t Erin’s. I don’t know whose that is.”

“Okay, you go back and get the car. I’m going to go up a little farther, see if I can find him.” I ran up another block, but all I found was another kid on a bike - who was also looking for a kid in a black tank top, just like we were. Empty-handed, I headed back home, stopping to warn some other neighbors and tell them what had just happened.

After every run, provided I’m not feeling like I’m about to die, I take Tes for a walk, a little “cool down.” I’d just gotten back from a fourteen-mile run and Tes’s walk. Joy and I were standing in the driveway, with the light on the side of the house on, chatting. Suddenly, she pointed behind me and said, “Is that Matt?”

I turned and looked. Someone wearing dark shorts and a black tank top was setting a bike down in Matt and Erin’s front yard. He then went over and peeked in the windows of Erin’s car. It could be Matt… but then, “No, that’s not him. His arms are too skinny.” I turned back to Joy. “Run in and get my phone, call Matt. I’m going to watch this guy.”

I started slowly strolling down the driveway, and the mystery guy opened the car door and got in. Then I saw Matt stand up in his living room and head for the front door. “Ah, shit,” I muttered. The kid heard Matt and quickly jumped out. I was already moving - adrenaline was surging through my body as I ran straight for the kid. I heard Matt yell, “Hey! What are you…!” and the kid was on his bike, pedaling.

I’d gotten within ten feet of him. But the race was on. Matt actually jumped straight out of his open porch window and ran after us in bare feet. We ran for a good block before the CD player was dropped.

Back on the home turf, Matt had gone out looking for the kid in his car. Another neighbor, Doug, was bummed because he “always misses the action,” so he grabbed an old bat and went out looking, too. Both returned with no luck.

We live on a fairly quiet street. We’re pretty tight-knit, and I would say about half of the people on the block regularly hang out with each other, and the rest are more “now and then.” Just in the last few months, however, it seems like someone is calling the police for one thing or another every other week. But one thing I didn’t expect is that we seem to be stepping up to the plate, too. Without any sort of spoken agreement, Matt, Doug, and I have formed a little “block defensive posse.”

If a strange car drives by slowly a couple times, especially in the evening, one or more of us go outside to see if it comes by a third time. If someone is acting suspicious, we go find out what they’re up to. When someone commits - or attempts to commit - a crime, we call the police AND go see if we can stop it.

Some people might say we’re being stupid, that we should let the cops handle it, that we’re putting ourselves in danger, blah blah blah. We’ve got no problem with the police. But the fact is, they aren’t always here, RIGHT NOW, when we need them. And I’m not talking vigilante justice; had we caught the kid tonight, we’d probably have held on to him and scared the living bejeezus out of him until the cops got there to take care of things.

But this is our street. This is our *home.* Neighborhoods go to shit when no one stands up for them. We’re not going to let that happen here. Just by speaking up, making ourselves visible instead of hiding, and taking action when necessary, we’ve run off a drug house (well, around the corner), terrified a group of teenage pricks to the point that they won’t set foot on our street even though their friend lives here (egg MY house, will you?), run of a wannabe thief, and who knows what else. Just by one or more of us going out into our front yards, we’ve seen people get back in their cars and leave.

But maybe we’re just ugly, or something.

And nothing was missing from Erin’s car.

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