One member of the Cinnaminson Zoning Board even tried to cut off the familiar complainant before them by saying, "Again, we get the idea."

"Oh, you've got to see these," resident Mary Ann Ricciardi persisted at the June meeting, reaching for another poster board packed with what she believed to be damning photographs. "You've got some real humdingers coming up!"

Some officials view Ricciardi as a nuisance. The 63-year-old sees herself as the leader of a mission she never asked for: stopping the encroachment of TransAxle L.L.C., a company whose alleged infractions she has documented in detail from the wooded backyard of her two-story house.

After a series of long and contentious hearings, the zoning board next month is expected to rule on the battle between TransAxle - which calls itself the largest remanufacturer of heavy-duty truck transmissions and differentials on the East Coast - and its neighbors.

At stake in this Burlington County community is TransAxle's proposal to expand by erecting a 36,000-square-foot building. Nearby residents protest that the company has violated the conditions granted to it in earlier zoning variances. Those violations, they say, have led to more pollution and noise. Photos even show some workers urinating outside. Neighbors say the expansion would only magnify the nuisances and almost certainly lower their property values.

The matter has dragged on for almost five years, and it has proven to be an arduous fight for Ricciardi, who is at the center of the opposition. (Her husband, Anthony, 62, has played a minor role.)

She has submitted to the board about 1,000 photographs documenting alleged violations. And she hired a planner and a lawyer to advance her case before the board and to counter the company's own team of representatives, which at one time included Phil Haines, then the county clerk and now a state senator.

Warren Klein, the company chief executive officer until last year and now a minority shareholder, doubts Ricciardi. He said he heard that she dumped trash and bottles over her fence and onto TransAxle's property in order to stage some photos, though he offered no evidence to support his claims.

"It's her whole life," said Klein, who owns the TransAxle building. "She's obsessed."

Conditions attached to previous variances bar TransAxle from outside storage and from installing or removing vehicle parts or doing auto-body repairs on the site. Photos Ricciardi presented depict the company's back lot as an unsightly patch strewn with junk, car parts and chemicals where employees openly operate on vehicles.

Residents also complain of trucks' idling and belching as they come and go at all hours of the day and night. The constant sound of the workers dumping transmissions into big metal bins, they say, is unbearably loud.

TransAxle has morphed into a 24-hour-a-day, seven-day-a-week operation, or close to it, which was not the intent of variances granted to the company in the 1980s that permitted the industrial use in a residential area, argue the residents and Ricciardi's attorney, Jeff Baron.

Before the company was denied a land-use variance in 1990 for a far smaller expansion, residents protested to the zoning board that the company kept the yard in "junkyard condition" and that its workers exposed their children to foul language.

When the Ricciardis built their four-bedroom home and moved there in 1994, TransAxle, facing Route 73, was quiet. It was not until the late 1990s that Ricciardi observed an uptick in cars, people and noise, she said.

The company's efforts to soothe tensions over the expansion by meeting with residents in recent years have not calmed the neighbors. Now TransAxle says nothing can please the Ricciardis.

The company has argued to the board that the expansion would be simply a continuation of an existing use, and that the residents' complaints do not address what the potential negative impact of the new building would be. The expansion would diminish the nuisance because it would provide greater buffering and would pull operations inside, among other improvements, representatives of TransAxle said.

Opponents lament that nothing has changed. At the board's last meeting, on Oct. 1, Ricciardi presented more photos taken that day showing junk in the TransAxle lot, outdoor repairs and an employee undressing.

"They have trucks at 3 in the morning," said 30-year-resident Joseph Scalise at the meeting. "Believe me, you have no idea how loud that is. It shakes the windows."

Township zoning officer John Marshall said in an interview that the company had always complied with verbal and written warnings - though he issued no formal citations - even as he acknowledged that it "does have a history of repeating the same thing over and over again."

He said he has received periodic complaints about TransAxle from Ricciardi and other neighbors, but sometimes they come after the fact, outside of business hours, or at a time when he can't immediately make an inspection. He said he cannot issue summons for violations he doesn't see. Marshall said he is spread thin monitoring 5,000 properties and businesses.

The municipal judge, township police and county officials have been involved at different times, but for various reasons their actions failed to resolve the matter.

Yet while zoning board members were more skeptical of the Ricciardis in the beginning - one even called her husband's lament at a meeting in 2004 a tiresome tirade - they have begun to shift their skepticism toward the company.

"When you put the whole story together, it shows a lack of care and concern for the neighbors living there," board member John Bednarek said at last week's meeting.

The company's lawyer, August Knestaut, countered the accusations by arguing that TransAxle has not received any zoning citations.

"Have mistakes been made?" he asked the board. "Absolutely. But that does not preclude the board from granting relief to my client."

One sticking point now seems to be that the company says that, after the expansion, it would need to drive trucks in from 5 to 7 a.m., which some board members counter is too early.

Watching TransAxle from her backyard one recent evening, Ricciardi worried that if the board imposed limits on the company's hours of operation, they would be as difficult to enforce as the other conditions are now.

"What do they want me to do?" Ricciardi said. "I don't want to be their policeman. I have a life to live."