Stop and Run Traffic

The past week I had the opportunity to go running on Hilton Head Island, in the Sea Pines area mainly.  The weather was fantastic, although perhaps a bit more humid than one would choose for running.  After the winter we had in central PA, I will not complain about heat or humidity!

This was a typical view while running:

The Sea Pines Resort area had an elaborate maze of biking/running trails that wound along the roadway system and golf courses.

This made running really enjoyable until . . . .

Thou shalt not pass! (DO NOT collect $200)

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  A STOP sign for pedestrians?

Well!  Isn’t that special?!  Let’s give the benefit of the doubt and the right of way to the two ton death machine instead of the helpless pedestrian or biker.  Who came up with this idea?

As if that wasn’t bad enough, there were still thoughtful drivers who would come to a stop to allow bikes, runners and walkers to pass.  The problem was, the cars behind said Good Samaritan weren’t always ready to stop–they weren’t expecting it, especially if they were local and used to this cockamamie hierarchy of right-of-way privileges.  Worse yet, one lane of traffic would stop, which they didn’t have to, but the other lane wouldn’t.  This was problematic when a small child on a bike started forward  because the nearest lane stopped, not realizing the other lane wasn’t stopping.  I saw this happen numerous times.

I have to be honest.  I ran many of these STOP signs.  Literally.  Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.  A Hilton Head cop finally pulled me over.

I tried to explain.  “I slowed down officer.”

He wasn’t impressed.  “You were supposed to STOP.”

“But I slowed down, ” I protested.

He then pulled out his nightstick and started beating me.

As I’m writhing in pain, he asks, “So!  Do you want me to slow down, or do you want me to STOP?”

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Deer Me

We “hit” a deer.

A friend of mine was relating a story this week. She and her husband were on their way home Tuesday night after a party.  It was dark (but not a dark and stormy night.)  All of a sudden, he hit the brakes.  She looked up from her Ipad just as he “hit a deer that when flying off to the side of the road.”  She claims they even “heard glass breaking.”

Now, you may wonder why I put that in quotes.  It’s because I can’t do air quotes in a blog.

The car was still drivable so they continued home–expecting the worst.

They assumed something like this.

When they pulled into their driveway and got out, there was no visible damage to the car.  There were no broken lights or mirrors to explain the broken glass sound they allegedly heard.   She claims there was a “patch of fur” on the fender but nary a dent or scratch to indicate that a deer was launched off the roadway by impact.  She further claimed that her husband took the car to a mechanic to check and make sure there was no damage under the vehicle–and everything checked out just fine.

This led those who were listening to conclude one of the following possibilities.

1.  There was no deer.  She made it all up.  I hit a unicorn the other day with my jeep.  There was some horn on the fender, but nothing else.  See, we can do that too.

2.  They hit a reindeer, flying low across the road.  It veered away at the last second, and the glass breaking noise was actually jingle bells.

3.  They hit a Christmas Ornament (those light-up deer you see grazing in yards amidst twinkle lights) that fell off someone’s truck.  It would explain the glass, but you would expect some scratching of the vehicle.

4.  They ate some psychedelic mushrooms by accident at the holiday party they were returning from.  This is the explanation that the listening group eventually agreed upon.  It had to be the ‘shrooms.  Maybe they were drunken ‘shrooms as well.

5.  There was a deer.  It did get hit.  There was miraculously no damage (the “immaculate impaction”) and right now there is a deer in the woods trying to convince his buddies that he did indeed get hit by a car and lived to brag about it.

“Dude, that’s just a bald spot.  You didn’t get hit by a car.  Quit pulling our deer legs!”

“I swear it’s true!  See . . . they broke my glasses too!”

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A Park in the Walk

Last Sunday, being Easter, parking spaces near our church were at a premium.  I’m not the world’s best parallel parker to begin with.  I desperately need a Focus.  But I did finally manage to squeeze my jeep into a parking space big enough for a Cadillac.  I only went up on the curb twice.  But in the end, it was a passable park job and hopefully no one else was watching.

As we were leaving church to go home, though, we saw this parking fail.

His other car is a Ford Focus.

I don’t feel so bad after all.

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Don’t Book Me, Danno!

We recently vacationed in Hawaii–on Oahu and Kauai–and had the opportunity to drive around in a rental car with three teenagers.

This is a vacation?

Getting around Hawaii is not as easy as it sounds.  It has to be one of the worst places we have ever been to with regards to the driving experience.  If you already know where you are going, you’ll be just fine.  Being that this was our first trip to the 50th state, we were anything but fine.

For instance, we wanted to visit Pearl Harbor.  Travelling on H-1, a ten lane highway in Honolulu at one point, there are signs over three lanes that say “Pearl Harbor.”  You would think that if you got into one of those lanes, you would be able to get to Pearl Harbor.  Maybe you can.  We couldn’t.  Twice.  From either direction.

We had maps.  We basically knew where the harbor was.  We were on an island for crying out loud.  There’s ocean, shore and inland.  How hard could this be?

But there were no signs that actually told you which exit to take to get to Pearl Harbor.

We couldn’t get there from here.  Or there.  Or anywhere.

There are no signs along the Interstate to tell you what attractions, amenities, facilities or restaurants are available.  You just have to guess.  Or perhaps we should have rented a car with a GPS.  The kids were no help.  They had iPod ear buds in their ears and couldn’t even hear the cries of anguish from the adults up front.

But I digress.

In Kauai, there was a section of highway that was under construction.  We know this because there were signs saying so, not because we actually saw any actual construction occurring.  There were orange barrels.  There was a sign that announced that the project was going to begin in June 2010.  Almost two years later, the road is still under construction.  Maybe they are importing it from China, inch by inch.  Glad I don’t live there.  What the hell am I saying . . . it’s Hawaii.  I WISH I LIVED THERE!  But I’m glad I didn’t have to drive in that traffic every day.

So there we were, tooling along at 5 mph or less in bumper to bumper traffic.  It was midday, and I think maybe the schools were letting out.  As a result, there were some police officers coordinating the traffic jam.

As we passed one of them, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him grab the radio on his shoulder and say something.

I’m in a rental car going 5 miles per hour.  Grandmothers are passing us in hula skirts.  I must be imagining things.  Surely I have done nothing wrong.

But about five hundred feet later (let’s see, maybe five minutes have passed–just kidding, but things were going slow)  another cop pointed and signalled me to pull into the blocked lane lined by orange barrels.

I muttered something under my breath and complied, still wondering what was going on.  Surely, this must be some mistake.

I’d like to type that I wound the window down, but that is rather archaic.  So I powered the window down.

The cop pointed to my son in the back seat and said, “the one in the middle needs to be in a seat belt too.”

OK.  Let’s stop right here.  We always make our kids wear seat belts.  Always.  Just going to the store.  Sitting in the parking lot.  Sometimes when they are not even in the car.  Doesn’t matter.

Always, except for this time.

"Do you believe this guy's excuse?" "No. Book 'em, Danno!"

I’m not sure telling him we always make them wear seat belts helped our case at all, particularly when NONE of my kids in the back seat had their seat belt on as it turned out.

To his credit, the officer never asked for my license or the rental’s registration.  He asked where we were from and whether we were on vacation.  Then, he reminded us that the kids always need to wear their seat belts in Hawaii.  He even stopped the slow-moving traffic to allow us to get back on the highway.

The kids learned a valuable lesson that day.  If you don’t want dad asking if your seat belt is buckled every fifteen minutes of the vacation, then make sure you don’t get pulled over for not wearing it in the first place.

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Fun While Running

Being a runner, you never know what kind of things you are going to run into.

Surprisingly, I have never “hit the wall.”

I have run into cars, poles, and trouble, but I have not yet hit the wall.  But I digress.

Recently, I went running in a suburban area of Phoenix and saw some funny things.

Traffic calming???? Is that even possible?

Traffic calming?  Are you serious?  Traffic and calm should not be in the same paragraph together–nay, the same blog together–let alone the same sentence or on the same sign.  Thank heavens it’s just temporary!  After one mile, you are free to go back to being an uptight driver.

Being from Pennsylvania, though, I had no idea of what this traffic calming is that you speak.

So I continued running.  I would have done that anyway, but now I was a runner on a mission.  I needed to find out the secret to calmer traffic.

Here it is:

The Circle of Calm

I know what you are thinking.  (I have ESPN.)  Actually, I am assuming that you are thinking the same thing I was.

What the BLEEP is this?

It’s a traffic circle!  My cell phone doesn’t take great pictures but the YIELD sign instructs drivers to yield to cars already in the circle.  The circle is apparently a calming shape appropriate for driving.  You have round wheels.  Round tires.  Several rounds in the shot-gun.  Why not a round road?

What the BLEEP were they thinking?  All they need to do is drive around Boston, with its infamous “circles of death” to understand that traffic circles are not calming.  (They call them rotaries, but I suspect rotisserie might be a better term.)  Sure, if you know where in the circle of traffic you want to be you are okay.  But if you are a lost tourist–beware!  I swear I saw a car driven by a skeleton in Boston going around in the circle.  The poor guy died before he could figure out how to get out of the circle.  (Don’t ask me how he never ran out of gas, because it would ruin the humorous image this is supposed to elicit.)  I followed his remains for three days myself.

The theory is that these “circles” slow traffic down.  Isn’t that what the speed limit signs are for?  Can’t we accomplish the same thing with a STOP sign to keep people from raging down the road at unsafe speeds?  How about a speed bump (although they call them humps in Arizona?)  How many taxpayer dollars were wasted on this project?  I am anything but calm here.

Worse yet, as a runner, I now had to run outside the circle lines because I was pretty sure the vehicles weren’t going to yield for me!

And then I finally ran all the way to Paradise.  Well, Paradise Drive.  And it was a DEAD END!

You can't get there from here!

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