She stopped her SUV across the street.
For several seconds, she stared at the Phoenix.
Then she walked toward us wearing a hot-pink suit and carrying her familiar black leather folder.
Her heels struck the pavement sharply.
"What did I tell you?"
I turned.
"Good morning."
She pointed at the car.
"I specifically told you not to leave that junk outside."
I explained the garage work.
The temporary transport arrangements.
And the management company's acknowledgment.
She didn't listen.
Instead, she looked toward the preservation crew.
"Who authorized you to bring this thing here?"
The crew leader replied politely that the homeowner had hired them.
The president laughed.
"Well, the homeowner doesn't get to override association standards."
I took out my phone.
Then showed her the property manager's email.
She glanced at it.
For a moment, her expression tightened.
Then she waved the phone away.
"That woman isn't the board president."
I nodded.
"No. But the rules don't require additional approval for this work."
She looked directly at me.
For several seconds, the neighborhood seemed quiet.
Then she said something I would remember later.
"You seem to think being able to afford this house means you can do whatever you want."
I held her gaze.
"No, ma'am. I think owning my property means I have the rights described in the documents we all agreed to follow."
Her eyes narrowed.
The preservation crew stopped moving.
Then the president leaned closer.
"You're going to regret challenging me."
I didn't answer.
I simply stepped aside and allowed the professionals to continue their work.
She remained there for several seconds.
Then turned and marched back toward her SUV.
Before leaving, she took several photographs of the car.
I watched her drive away.
The teenage neighbor looked toward me.
"She's really mad."
I smiled faintly.
"Seems that way."
He hesitated.
Then asked whether she could actually take the car.
I looked toward the Phoenix.
"No."
I believed that answer completely.
The garage work was delayed.
A moisture test revealed a section of concrete that required additional treatment, and the contractor advised leaving the new coating undisturbed longer than originally planned.
The Phoenix remained secured inside the enclosed transport trailer while the preservation company adjusted its schedule.
I informed the property manager about the revised timing.
She acknowledged the update.
I also sent a copy to the board's general email address.
The president responded within an hour.
Her message was furious.
She claimed I'd ignored repeated warnings and demanded that the vehicle be removed immediately.