When Neighbors Attack

I am beginning to recognize that my utter suspicion of friendly neighbors stems from a deep and disturbed past. Growing up, we did live in something that resembled a "neighborhood", yet I was never under the impression that the human habitants on the street were of any use to us at all.
Although we resided in what is considered a "very good" neighborhood, somehow the folks next door never got the memo. I believe my earliest neighborhood memory is of being bitten by a dog--not only the dog on the left side of our house, but also on the right. As this was the 1970's, I was simply scolded, as back then the child "deserved it".
Nevertheless, the dog bites really weren't that bad, as they paled in comparison to how the neighbors gleefully enjoyed terrorizing us.

There were four teenage boys next door. These particular youths had an enlightened set of hobbies consisting of : starting fires behind the house, drunkenly climbing utility poles, stealing my father's gasoline, shooting pellets at the fish in our pond, and hosting loud parties while blasting fireworks into trees.  I was always on the alert for the smell of smoke, as something was usually on fire. 
Somehow, the delinquents managed to grow up and move on with their lives, but were replaced by something equally annoying in our "nice" neighborhood: Lawn care!

The raucous seventies gave birth to the materialistic 1980's. Now everyone on the street needed to chemically treat their lawn, manicure their trees and show off just how rich they were by summoning large amounts of immigrants to trim bushes. The worse part was the leaf blowers. As rakes were considered to be tools of the proletariat, endless leaf blowing became the neighborhood pursuit. The noise pollution was relentless and pointless.

To top it off, the town also experienced a rash of burglaries around that time. The perps weren't some sort of recidivists from far away--no, just "bored" local kids.
That's right. In New Jersey, neighbors don't bring over cookies or sing Christmas carols, but you can expect their children will steal your TV for kicks.
I think all this evidence will hold itself up very well, when my new friendly neighbors take me to court for being the "town crank". Leery suspicion is really the best I can do under these circumstances.