Last bread's stolen tractor Anon scenario reminded me of one time when I bought an old house on an empty block in an empty part of town -except for the hillbilly family that owned the block across the street from me.
Had no idea about them when I bought in, and when I went to work I suddenly had people of all ages who had lived there for generations screaming profanities at me from across the street like lunatics. One guy about my own age was the worst of them, in the prime of life and strong enough to be taken seriously.
I stood my ground, ignored them, and went about my work. I didn't have a choice. I was 30, nearly broke after a bunch of life had met me head on, and was taking a shot at making something of my life again, and had to live there while I rebuilt the place. I did clean and oil my old shot gun at a bench in the backyard within sight of them one time so they knew to stay on their own side of the street.
About the time the place was done and I was about to move out, I got out of my chair to change the channel on the Tv I had in front of a big window in the livingroom that faced their house. I saw a couple of beater cars come sliding into their gravel parking area and guys with shotguns jumped out to scream at the ones that they weren't suddenly throwing on the ground.
I got low and kept watching, and a black and white pulled up after 90 seconds of interesting shit, and it turns out they were all friends -except for the hillbillies that turns out were manufacturing drugs over there.
30 years later and I live on the next block over -never really made it out of here. I still see that one ten year old kid that I kind of made friends with after the shit hit their fan. He's 40, moved to a place outside of town, works hard and has a nice family.
Haven't seen any of the rest of them since their bad day, and I don't bother to ask about 'em.
Shit always seems to work itself out.