There are a handful of stories on Reddit about mailboxes getting hit or ruined and the lengths angry dads will go to in order to protect their property.

I’ve gotta be honest…I love them all and would read a new one every single day.

OP’s parents were the first people to live on this rural road.

So, mailbox story time. This happened back in 1982, for the record.

My folks moved to a very rural area on a gravel road. No one had previously lived here, so it was a battle just getting mail delivery in the first place.

My folks went several rounds with the local postmaster. He was… somewhat enamoured with his own power and very much a “rules to the letter” kind of guy. Every I must be dotted, every T crossed, and if there’s so much as a semicolon out of place you’ll have to start all over again.

He seemed to have made it his personal mission to make getting mail delivery to a new address as difficult as humanly possible.

They had to jump through more than a couple of hoops in order to get a mailbox approved.

Ultimately, my folks managed to fill out the paperwork to his satisfaction and he begrudgingly allowed us to put up a box and receive mail delivery at our new home.

Dad was extremely careful in the placement of our box and making absolutely certain is was the exact height, precise placement from the road, etc. to avoid annoying our local postmaster any more than we already had.

There are (or at least were) very specific rules about rural mail boxes. Dad followed every single one. That first mailbox was perfect.

Then, the local city employee kept destroying it.

The man who drove the road grader was as annoyed as the local postmaster, as he now had a new driveway to accommodate. We suspect that’s why he had it out for our mailbox.

After the road grader had demolished three of our mailboxes, Dad was quite angry.

Previously, he’d used the most basic design, just a post in the ground with a box on top. Now, he was motivated.

So, dad got serious.

Dad got ahold of a nine foot long section of metal pipe. It’s four inches in diameter (outer measurement) and has three quarter inch thick walls.

I have no idea what this was originally intended for. But I know how Dad used it.

He dug a hole five and half feet deep. He welded an upside down tripod shape (think open umbrella) to the bottom of the pole and dropped it into the six foot wide hole. Each welded on “leg” was about three feet of some kind of rebar and there were five such spokes

. He then dropped some huge rocks on top of the tri-pod shape to hold it in place. The empty spaces around the huge rocks were filled in with gravel and he dumped sand to fill in the air gaps.

Then he filled the rest of the hold in with dirt and mounted the mailbox on top of the post.

Three days after Dad installed the new mailbox, we heard the road grader coming down the road.

Our house is a quarter mile from the road, but we heard the loud clang from inside. We also heard the cursing and swearing from inside. No one went down to look until they heard the road grader drive away.

When they did, the box itself was slightly dented on one side, but it was still firmly upright and functional.

The city tried to bill OP’s family for the damage.

Three weeks later, we received a bill from the township for a bent grader blade.

It was accompanied by a letter informing us that we had caused damage to city property because our mailbox was installed incorrectly. It would need to be moved and we were liable for a bill of a couple thousand dollars worth of repairs.

Luckily, his mother had all of the receipts.

Here’s where it becomes pro-revenge instead of petty. Recall the fact that the local postmaster was annoyed with us over our battle to get mail delivery?

Mom had made a point of each time we re-installed the mailbox, taking photographs down to the post office and having the local postmaster sign off approval of the height, placement, etc.

She’d done the same with dad’s super-post and had documented, signed approval of the box dated the day before the road grader had bent his blade trying to demolish the box.

She submitted copies of the invoice for the grader blade (and the letter stating that the damage was our fault because our mailbox was incorrectly placed) to the post office.

She also submitted copies of the official post office approval of the box to the township.

No one knows what went down, but that mailbox still stands today.

The jerk of a postmaster was also quite prideful and became furious that his authority was being called into question by some podunk township. As far as he was concerned, the township wasn’t questioning my parents, they were stating that his judgement was wrong.

I don’t know what went down between the postmaster and the township, but we received a second letter from the post office, reiterating their approval of our mailbox.

We also got a formal apology from the township and notice that the road grader’s contract had been terminated because he’d lied about damage to city property.

It was worded with a tone that said “please don’t sue us because a contracted employed damaged your property.”

For the record, that post Dad installed nearly forty years ago is still standing. We’ve replaced the box on top many times.

That post, however, has now wrecked two cars and a truck in addition to that long ago road grader.

I wonder if Reddit loves mailbox stories as much as I do…

Some people have to learn the hard way.

Everyone loves a reminder to document.

These types of mailboxes are made to last.

This is probably an effective option, too.

Some people just like to watch the world burn.

Now, wasn’t that fun?

The best of the best revenge tales include a mailbox.

If you liked that post, check this one about a guy who got revenge on his condo by making his own Christmas light rules.