Crazy People

When I am at home in my apartment, I do my best to keep to myself. Let's just say me and my apartment neighbors do NOT mix. I try to be friendly and outgoing but, it seems, no matter where I live I am plagued with people even crazier than I am!
In one apartment, the upstairs neighbor would have parties until 7am almost every night of the week, ignoring my pleas for silence, or an invite.
In another apartment the neighbor across from me was a Car Salesman. That should have been a red flag right there, but I felt bad for the guy. He had been tossed out by his wife who then moved her boyfriend into the home with her. I became a sympathetic friend, offering my assistance in any way. Long story short I gave out hundreds of dollars to help him, not to mention he stole a couple hundred dollars worth of clothing, then tried to guilt trip me that I wasn't helping him enough.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I moved to San Antonio. My neighbors are nice and quiet; despite the fact there is a family of four living next door in the same sized apartment as me. I thought I was free and clear of crazy neighbors... until Thursday.

My apartment complex backs up against another. The two are separated by a black wrought iron fence. I leave my bike under a parking canopy that sits next to the fence and park my Durango beside that.
Oh Thursday, I started taking the cover off my bike so I can go for a ride, crazy neighbor free, then I hear him speak. I look through the chipped iron fence and see a man, disheveled hair, shoeless, shirtless, standing there staring at me. Here's a bit of the conversation that followed:

Me: Excuse me?
Hippie: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Hippie: That your bike? (He points to the bike that I am removing the cover from)
Me: ...yes.
Hippie: So where's your boat?
Me: I'm sorry?
Hippie: I see you gots a trailer hitch, where's ya'lls boat?
Me: No boat, just the trailer hitch to tow things.
Hippie: How big is that bike?
Me: 1500CC (maybe goes 90mph)
Hippie: I used to ride motorcycles. Take my friends bike out for a spin. He wanted me to buy it. I didn't wear a helmet or nothing. One time I got that bike up to 200 on the freeway, even did a wheelie. But power on a bike like yours will kill you.

He then proceeded to talk to me about his brother who works on motorcycles and for Jesse James, the West Coast Chopper dude. Then he started running off to grab an article about motorcycles to show me. I told him I was actually running late to meet friends, which was true.
We said our goodbyes then I ran the cover inside and grabbed my helmet. I get on the bike and he shouts at me again, I look back and he is thrusting the article through the fence pointing at his brother then at Jesse James, side by side. I told him I really had to go and said goodbye again, then he told me one more story about how he almost bought the bike made for Jesse James. I managed to escape and revved my engine peeling out of the parking lot, glad to escape the onslaught of crazy.
When I returned a few hours later he was still there, sitting on a set of stairs by the fence. He stood up and anxiously faced me, to talk more about Jesse James I imagine. I picked up my cellphone and took my helmet off. My girlfriend thankfully called, giving me a reason to talk on the phone, ignoring him standing there. So far I haven't seem him again, but I know he will pop up when I lease expect it!