It first started one weekend when Greg's parents left town for the 
weekend, and the gang got together at their place for a game of 
Car Wars and other mayhem.  Somewhere along the line it was 
decided that we would go decorate someone's yard with toilet 
paper.  

It was probably shortly after midnight.  Brad had invited his younger 
brother, Steve to come along for the evening's activities.  
Unfortunately, they first needed to get their jackets from home.  
This is where the trouble started.  Brad had discussed our nighttime 
toilet paper trips with his mother who approved.  He had never 
broached the subject with his father.  Since their mom was gone 
that weekend, Brad and Steve decided that they would have to 
sneak in and out of their house.  They managed to get in through 
the back and get their coats without any trouble.  As they were 
heading out around the side of the house, Steve bumped the gate 
making quite a racket.  Brad immediately ducked under some 
bushes while Steve froze in place.  Moments later lights came on, 
and Mr. Heuseveldt asked Steve what he was doing outside.

"I'm Helping Brad."

Shortly there-after, Brad called and informed us that they had been 
pinched.  Of course Mr. Heuseveldt didn't believe that his wife had 
ever approved of such adventures, and he kept them home.  

Undounted, we set out on our journey.  

This was, of course before any of us could drive, so we all dressed 
in black (except for Jeff's brown towel) and headded out on foot.  

Now I don't know exactly what kind of flashlight Mr. Heuseveldt 
had, but I know it was one of those multi-cell jobbers which let you 
link on extensions to hold more batteries.  He must have had 30 or 
40 batteries packed in there, and I think the normal light-bulb was 
replaced by a World War II anti-aircraft searchlight.  Reacting to the 
scorching heat thrown out by this flashlight, we all took cover 
behind trees and shrubs, until we realized it was shining from Mr. 
Heuseveld's bedroom window, and were off on our way.  

A couple of weeks later, we were all together at Brad's 
grandmother's house.  This was a good thing.  She is a first 
generation Dutch immigrant who loves to cook.  Thus it was always 
tasty to stop by.  As we were enjoying some traditional dutch apple 
pie, Mr. Heuseveldt related the story of our night time encounter to 
the assemblage of family and friends.

After sufferring this public humiliation from our former junior high 
gym coach, we started looking for a way to get back at him.  Some 
weeks later Jeff, Greg, a few other people and I were working on a 
volunteer community service project painting handicapped parking 
logos in parking lots for several churches (my Eagle Scout project).  
As we were wrapping everything up, Jeff mentioned that the 
Heuseveldts were on vacation, and announced his plan.  We drove 
to my place and picked up some semi-permanent sign paint and 
headed for the Heuseveldt's.  We stopped in next door at the 
Kettelsons.  Mr. Kettelson is a kindly older gentleman who watches 
the Heuseveldt's house when they are away.  We told him what we 
were doing, and he just wanted to make sure the paint wan't 
permanent.  "Bob loves a good joke." he said.  

So we set to work on the driveway, first painting in the blue square, 
then stenciling in the white wheelchair symbol.  Somewhere along 
the way another neighbor yelled at us from his porch that what we 
were doing looked illegal, and he had called the police.  After 
finishing up we relaxed on the lawn waiting for the police.  When 
the officer arrived, he had barely gotten out of his car when he 
doubled over with laughter.  He took our names, just in case there 
was a complaint later, and left with a smile on his face.  

A quick call to a friend at the Hanford Sentinal got the following 
mention placed on the front page the day the Heuseveldts 
returned; "Bob Heuseveldt - unable to park in his own driveway."  
Gotta love those small town papers.