Back in the ‘70’s, we had a next-door neighbor who liked calling the cops whenever my brother or I would ride our minibikes on the street (we were a rural community). My brother and I started calling the Sheriff on ourselves, claiming to be the neighbor (no caller ID back then, easy voice to imitate), and they would come over to find our bikes as cold as stone. My brother called them once when I was on a band trip.
Eventually the Sheriff Deputies stopped coming because they chalked him us as an A-hole causing trouble, using them. That’s when we went back to riding when we wanted. Drove that clown nutz. He didn’t much like our firecrackers, either. He couldn’t do a thing when we graduated to large-caliber rifles because it was legal for us to shoot them. :^)
We have a wacko nut job in our neighborhood who calls the cops on moms watching their children ride around their cul-de-sac. The dads on the street took her to court — not sure what happened with that.
I guess every neighborhood has their whack job!