Monday, and even though I live by the philosophy that the day is not determined by its name, today felt like the stereotypical Monday. A trip to the post office, and to Walmart, and some household chores. Pretty nondescript, but even in my brief time outside the condo, I am still feeling the stress and strain of navigating Fury Road.
Road Rage Rash
I am still surprised and flabbergasted about the lack of instincts on the roads. In a brief hour or hour-and-a half stint, we encountered tailgaters, putzers (slow), and even someone who would have t-barred us in the parking lot leaving Walmart if the light hadn’t fortuitously changed. I am pretty sure, he never even saw us, and dumb luck prevented a major collision. Eileen does not like the flurry of profanity that habitually spews from my mouth, but road rage is the product of many factors- the primary one is feeling at risk for your life due to the selfishness or stupidity of other drivers.
This selfishness relates to a new wrinkle to my driving escapades. If you want to merge into ongoing traffic, you have to be aggressive. Most drivers understand this and are willing to move to the other lane to necessitate this forceful entrance. Cool. What is not cool is that this this pattern of aggressiveness rears its ugly head on the side, residential roads. More often than I can count, and I can count high, drivers will pull out in front of us from a side street causing us to slow down, and here’s the kicker, there is no one behind us. I mean no one. I mean zombie apocalypse, Cormac McCarthy The Road, no one. Maybe, it is the heat. Maybe, it is a lack of instinct or patience. Whatever the reason, it seems like a lack of courtesy, intended or not.
I have encountered this lack of courtesy often in the past, but I feel like I have hit my saturation point. I am sure you have been in a traffic jam, and someone uses the breakdown or open lane to skirt past all the cars and then butt their way into line. I have had other drivers not wait their turn at four-way stops even though the hierarchy of movement was easily established. Why this irks me and has me miffed and musing is, because it means that someone is determining that their time is more valuable than yours. How do they know? The short answer is they don’t. This discourtesy is a clear indication of a me-first, impatient, self-absorption that has ripples well beyond the road.
Rant over. Now, for something lighter.
Where The Streets Have Original Names
Sticking with the road theme. Let me channel my inner Jerry Seinfeld. “What is the deal with street names?” I live in a neighborhood where most of the streets are named after birds. There is even a Quail Road. When I lived in CT, I lived in a neighborhood where some of the streets were named after birds including mine, Quail Lane. Two states 800 miles from each other with different history, geography and political colors, but the same names for streets. How about thinking outside the box? How about more originality?
What is the name of your main street? Main Street. Okay, Captain Obvious. Why not name it Primary Street or First Street or Essential Street? Heck, why not call it Premier Street. At least my new town’s main street is called Front Street. Kudos. Let’s meet the Boss on the backstreets or better still, Back Street.
Craig, we name all of our streets after trees. Wow, that is cutting edge. During one of my initial visits to see my brother, my GPS took me to Alder Street in Portland, not Alder Street in South Portland. I am directionally dysfunctional, but I would have had a better chance if the streets had more unique names; at least not the same name in adjacent towns.
Granby, my previous hometown, does have an area where the streets are all named after poets. I love that. Let every civil engineer take note. The civil engineers of New York City sacrificed originality for clarity, so I can forgive that planning. Streets go one way, avenues the other. They are numbered in a nice patterned grid. I don’t know why I still get lost in the city, but it is more likely due to the mass of humanity I have to navigate rather than the signage.
I am just asking for city and town planners to be more creative. I grew up in Glastonbury, CT, a town filled with apple orchards and an annual Apple Harvest Festival. Various sources list the varieties of apples anywhere between 100 and 2,500 grown just in the U.S. Should have been a slam dunk to create a neighborhood called Appleville and mark the streets accordingly.
More on the power of originality in other posts this week. Don’t get me started on how they number houses.
Going Nuts
I live in a gated community. Back off, I’m renting. The community is impeccably landscaped and is the home to indigenous wildlife. The lake (pond) that lies near my back door, harbors whistling ducks and two or three alligators who seem to get along in Disney-like harmony. I would not recommend walking a dog near the pond, or covering yourself in raw chicken and sunbathing on its shores, but in my short tenure, I have encountered heron and some of the biggest hawks I have ever seen. I provide this catalog, because the animal I see most frequently is squirrels.
I was 52 – I am 55 now- when I saw my first black squirrel. I did not know they even existed, and it was more shocking than sprinting past a black bear and her cubs frolicking in my front yard. In CT, I lived in the woods; I expected some forest creatures, including some nut gatherers, but I have never seen more squirrels in one place until I moved south. All of the zoological jokes and funny anecdotes discuss the prolific copulation of rabbits and deers. How come they never mention squirrels? Every day, it seems they multiply like the Gremlins if you get them wet.
Now, I have never had an issue with squirrels. I have had a raccoon step up on me once but no animosity from squirrels. So, what’s the problem? The problem is not that they are ubiquitous, here. The problem is that these squirrels are downright stupid. I have heard that a squirrel’s natural instinct is, “when it senses danger, it will retreat to the last tree it remembers.” Now, I am not sold on this, but most squirrels realize that a Volkswagen Jetta constitutes danger, and serpentines to avoid taking it on.
Not these squirrels. I have had to slam my brakes on, multiple times, as these squirrels will actually run into the middle of the road and pause. Fortunately, I have rolled over some of these, but never crushed them under my tires. Squirrel salvation. Unfortunately, I bore witness to one, running in the opposite lane that was not so lucky. Ford F150 meets sluggish, non-committal rodent. Game over.
Every day, I wake to squirrels scurrying on almost every wood surface of my condo. I would never intentionally hurt any animal, but it seems, like we are on the verge of a complete takeover. I would also like some of them to take a course in defensive dodging and share it with the rest of their brood. Maybe, then, they will stop driving me nuts.
See you tomorrow in the Teacher’s Lounge. (Writing and Leaning on Colleagues)
Love and laughter,
P.