The Mailbox Boy

John was walking Matthew, our “little ol’ man”, Wednesday evening.  They usually go down the street for a 15-20 minute walk.  When they returned, John saw our mailbox on the ground and what was left of the post was a jagged mess.  John also noticed a gray piece of a car’s side mirror next to the mailbox.

Because we live in an HOA community, you can’t go to your local Lowe’s Home Improvement or Home Depot and buy a mailbox.  John called the HOA and ordered the “approved” mailbox and post.  Until it arrives, our mailman graciously offered to bring the mail to our front door.

The following morning I was out with our fur-babies.  A young man stopped in front of the house and came up to me and said “I’m the Mailbox Boy”.  He was very contrite and took his baseball cap off as he spoke to me.  He lives in our neighborhood a few blocks down the street.  His father gave him the replacement cost of the mailbox, and he had just gone to the bank to get the cash.

“Mailbox Boy” handed me the money and asked me to please let my husband know that he stopped by.  He told me he was “distracted” as he was driving out of the neighborhood and hit the mailbox.  I told him that many kids would probably not even bother to come back by.  I also told him I’m glad it was only the mailbox that was damaged.

Now, I’m not here to judge, and I certainly didn’t witness the mailbox massacre.  However:

  • I know it’s 20 mph in our neighborhood with a few curves in the streets, so you need to pay attention.
  • I know “Mailbox Boy” has a cell phone, and he called his father immediately after the accident.
  • I know that texting or talking on the phone takes your attention and focus away from driving.

“I report it, you decide.”

Bea Alert and Bea Careful when driving because you are the eyes and ears of your vehicle . . . a mailbox can be replaced.

What's left of our mailbox!

What’s left of our mailbox!

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