When I was a senior in high school, my car got leafed.
I remember the night very clearly. I was sleeping over my friend Liz’s house — yes, LIZ, the coolest girl in school — and we were getting ready to go to sleep. It was almost 2 o’clock in the morning. I had walked out of the living room to grab something when I heard her gasp.
“Oh. My. God.”
I hurried back to see what was wrong and found her looking out the window with her hands clasped over her mouth. Starting to panic, I walked up behind her to find out what had happened.
“Oh. My. God.”
My car, which had been parked on the street in front of her house, had been completely and entirely covered by leaves.
8 feet of leaves.

First, there was silence. Then, there was laughter.
Who had done this? How did they do it? Why did they do it? Was this even a thing people did??? HOW DID WE NOT SEE ANY OF IT HAPPEN WHEN WE HAD BEEN SITTING THERE WATCHING TV FOR THREE HOURS?
We threw on our shoes and ran outside. It was worse than we thought.
First, we stood in the middle of the street, staring at the mess. I think we both secretly hoped that it would clean itself up.
Next, we went through our respective phonebooks and called every person we knew within a five mile radius. Someone had done this and, once we found them, they were going to help us clean up.

When we got no response, we decided we were going to have to do this ourselves. We dove in.
Literally.
After twenty minutes of digging, I was finally able to squeeze myself into the drivers seat. The plan was to drive the car right out of the pile of leaves. I turned the car on, put it into gear, and pressed on the pedal. The car didn’t move. Instead, smoke started filling the car.
Great.
Flash forward to thirty minutes later. It was now 3 o’ clock in the morning. Two cops had arrived with shovels. The road had been closed. We all stood there in silence, raking leaves into the middle of the street. The goal was to completely remove the leaves before attempting to start my car again. It was a late night, to say the least.
To make a long story short:
- We finally rescued my car.
- Liz had to pay a fine to the city of Bridgewater for the mess that we made.
- I had to spend $200 to get my car re-detailed from all of the scratches on it.
- Going to work the next day was miserable.
And, after all of this, the question still remained: WHO HAD DONE THIS?

This as a question that I wouldn’t find the answer to until the end of the school year. As I leafed (pun intended) through the “Senior Goodbyes” in the back of our yearbook, I found this gem underneath one of my best friend’s name:
“PS. Alyssa, I leafed your car.”
Later on, we also found a disposable camera with photo evidence of the culprits in action.
I wasn’t mad in the slightest. In fact, I thought it was absolutely hilarious.
But, I will get those boys back. One day.