Vandals!

Yeah, we're in rustic climes now fer sher. Proof: Busted mailboxes and trashcans on fire.

A few weeks ago, some young'uns were arrested in the arson case involving many mailboxes in New Paltz. These same people may also have been responsible for destroying many mailboxes along our rural route. Luckily for us, ours was unhurt, but a neighbor's mailbox suffered mightily.

Pitty about Our Road

Our unpaved road was looking pretty good until this last snow storm. After the most recent plowing, we lost a lot of the stones and some hard-packed dirt from the top layer. Then the snow began to melt. As a result, our road has now developed a good many pits, some of them in close proximity. Our once stout little path now has the wet, bumpy feel of the skin right below a bad sunburn.

Driving on it is quite an experience. On either side of the pockmarked path is a 2-foot mound of packed ice. Not only are headlights unnecessary now, but opening your eyes is no longer required: You can just follow the pits below and let the ice keep you in the slot. I've tried it. Driving was never easier. Or bumpier.

The Ice Cometh. The Plowman Cometh Not

New Paltz got a bit more than the 8-16 inches of snow in the forecast. When I went out to do a bit of shoveling last night, the snow was up to my knees. I figured that the plow guy would come either late last night or early this morning. The last time it snowed, he came both during and after the blizzard. Today I found out why.

But to backtrack, I should mention that I made a slight miscalculation that led to me shoveling for 150 minutes instead of 15. With the car at the bottom of our driveway, I decided to see if I could take it one more time to the end of our private road. This unpaved road is just over four tenths of a mile long. I'd just come back from town, so I'd driven the road successfully, but when I went to move the car this last time, enough snow had fallen that the task had become impossible. I should have just taken the snow off the driveway so that I could park the car near the house, out of the way of the plow, but I reckoned that it would be a good idea to leave the car at the bottom of the road instead.

I drove away from the house, but after a short way, the car was stuck fast. I shoveled a bit and got back in, but I only made it as far as the area I'd cleared, plus a few feet. This process was repeated for the next two hours, after which I'd only taken the car halfway towards the main road. Shirra had shown up on the scene to help, so I cleared while she drove, and we managed to park the car to the side of the road. On the way back home, we had to contend with snow that had drifted as high as our thighs in places, making it an exceedingly difficult walk. We figured that we'd see the plowman this morning, but I left him a few messages just in case. He never showed, and he never called.

We would be trapped without someone's help. We tried to phone another plower we know, but he was swamped with calls. My only choice was to try to flag down a passing plower this morning off of Route 32. I stood there for nearly 20 minutes before getting someone to slow down, a lovely fellow named Joe. Initially he didn't think he would have time for the job, but he made time for me, and then he almost quit when he saw what lay ahead for him.

It's hard to plow snow that's over a foot high. Joe had to back up and smash into the snow for quite some time at first. Later, where the snow wasn't so deep thanks to my shoveling and driving, he made swift work of the plowing. In all, he was at it for nearly an hour, including the time it took him to put chains on the wheels, but when it was finished, we were in the clear! Well, except for our neighbor's driveway. Joe was in a rush to get back to his regular customers, so I told him that I'd take car of her place myself. It took me about an hour. I also had some more shoveling to do at our house just to extricate Shirra's car and to clear a bit more of our drive. In all, I guess I was busy for five hours. Luckily I'd located one of those weight-lifter belts this morning so that my back wouldn't be completely destroyed. I don't think I'd even be able to walk if it weren't for that.

Snow's Woes

The forecast was for 8-16 inches of snow from today till tomorrow. I decided to spend a few hours at the firehouse in case some calls came in, and sure enough, two did. Both were cars that had slipped off the highway. When I got back from the 2nd mishap, my car looked like this, even tho I had just cleaned it off 40 minutes earlier.

Later I made the mistake of trying to move the car to the bottom of our drive (nearly a half-mile from the house), but the snow had persisted, increasing in height by at least six inches, so the car is currently nestled to the side of the drive about 200 yards from the spot I was trying to reach. To get it there, I needed to dig out almost the entire length of the road; I think I was digging for around two-and-a-half hours. So as I write this, I'm sitting with a heating pad on my back, trying to calm overused muscles. I'll sleep well tonight!

Commuter Like Me

I guess you can't call yourself a commuter until you've made the trip before 8am. My usual rides, leisurely strolls by comparison, depart at such healthy happy times as 12:30 or 1pm. Those buses are rarely even half full, so everyone gets a double seat. And those rides, coming in as they do during non-rush-hours, are a brisk 90 minutes.

I'm attending a conference this morning in Manhattan. I considered sleeping over at my mom's, since we were there just a few hours ago, but Shirra is not comfortable driving at night, so I obliged, and I was especially relieved to discover that the 7:40am bus still got me to the conf on time, rather than the even less humane 7:10.

Running a few minutes late, I was forced to drive to the 2nd stop in New Paltz, the park 'n' ride. New Paltz doesn't really need its other stop (they aren't more than two miles apart), but it's nice to get on or off right in town, so no one's complaining. If I'd made the earlier stop, however, I would not have had to take the last seat in the bus, way in the back, wedged into the spot beside a dozing heavyweight in a puffy jacket. Serves me right for taking such a luxurious shower. And maybe I shouldn't have taken so long scraping tice off the windshield, but I do like to have some vague idea of where I'm driving.

The good news is that I at least got a seat. Since I had my unicycle with me today, I ended up last to board the bus (since I had to put the unicycle underneath). One more passenger and I'd have had to drive in
instead.

The 7:40 crowd is quiet. They are so quiet, in fact, that when a woman near me sneezed, no one blessed her. And no one is eating breakfast or playing their iPod too loudly. But if I had to leave each day without saying goodbye to my sleeping wife and kids before heading out earlier than I normally wake up to take a bus full of wide seatmates and godforsaken sneezers, I'd be a very sad boy.

Learning about NASCAR

I didn't realize when we moved to New Paltz that I'd have to learn about NASCAR. I couldn't find any online guides to help me translate, but between commercials for motor oil, Sears power tools, and car insurance, I picked up enough of the lingo to have a decent conversation the next time I set foot in that fire house. Try this one on for size:

Standard English
"The driver of the car with the #33 on it is hoping that someone else has an accident, necessitating that the race officials put up a caution flag, which would slow the pace of the race such that he would lose less ground while going in for mechanical adjustments."

NASCARese
Announcer (Southern accent): "That 33 car is hopin' for a yella, but right now they're runnin' green."

I should point out that the 33 car's wishes were granted when the 5 car spun into a wall 10 laps later, shredding its tires but otherwise causing no damage to his car, himself, or others. The 33 car's pit crew was vindicated. Their driver lost little time on his lengthy pitstop and was able to resume the race with a fresh set of tires and some important adjusments to his engine. Thrilling.

Parking: The Main Reason to Move out of NYC?

I'm sitting in front of my mom's apartment building, where I grew up. I dropped off Shirra and the kids, drove around for while in a vain search for a spot, and gave up. As I sit and write this, I'm hoping a spot opens on Mom's block.

30 minutes ago, I eschewed a spot a block away. I knew that losing that spot meant that it would be easier to drop off the family but that it would likely come at a cost. Sure enough, when I drove by that spot a few minutes later, someone was backing into it. In fact, I was amazed that the spot had stayed open as long as it did. And in a biting piece of bad luck, I noticed a spot on my mom's block a minute after missing the earlier spot. What was I thinking when I let that spot go? It was less than a quarter mile from my destination!

Now that I've decided to play the waiting game, each person crossing the street is a potential spot opener. That man with the beard...is he just cutting over diagonally, or is he about to head to his car? Was that woman coming out of her building holding some gloves, or were those her car keys?

Omigod. Sweater Guy WAS heading to his car.... He's out of his spot! Woohoo. The wait is over! Elapsed time: just 50 minutes. That's only 49 minutes longer than my longest search in New Paltz.

First Fire!

OK, it wasn't really that interesting. But after answering nearly 90 calls to the fire department, I saw my first actual fire today. Apparently some teens had set fire to a plastic garbage tub. When we arrived, the fire was about the size of, well, a melted plastic garbage tub. I got to hold the hose on the fire. It was quickly extinguished, and afterwards we filled the truck with diesel and headed back to the station. This will be a story to tell the grandkids one day.

"Grandpa, I want to hear the story again about the great garbage fire of '07."
"Well, you got a couple hours, Chattanooga?"
"For this story? Sure, Gramps."
"OK, Chatty. Just let me park this flying car on the nearest asteroid, and I'll tell you all about it."

More on Scootering

Today was Day 2 of the scooter experiment, and as a result of today's riding, I have a few corrections and a few more comments to address to yesterday's blog.

Distance
Yesterday I 'only' rode 5.5 miles. Today was 6. I apologize for the error and any inconvenience that I may have caused myself.

Muscles
I noticed that the going was far easier today. I don't think I was any stronger (perhaps the opposite), but I am already perfecting some energy-saving techniques, so I was able to push fewer times to get the same distance. On a flat, smooth surface, I can go a block in about ten pushes.

Hammer Time
I also forgot to note yesterday that I have a hammer toe on my right foot. As a result, running or normal scootering (using that foot to push) is a bit painful, while unicycling is not.

Police, or "Scootering while White"
I forgot to mention that just one block into my ride yesterday, I was 'pulled over' by a cop who was standing with two fellow rookies (judging by the fact that none of them was yet old enough to shave, and two of them still hadn't taken the plastic off their guns). He kindly asked to see some id. I was wearing my earbuds, so I started to take them off and asked him to repeat what I thought I'd heard. He asked again for id, and I said, "Are you serious?" At this point he relented on the identification, but he still took time to point out that according to NYC law, scooters are considered to be in the same category as bikes
and are therefore illegal on sidewalks. But then he told me to go ahead as long as I was careful. Hmm. Not the most assertive policeman, but at least he was polite. "Sir, will you kindly drop that weapon as soon as you can and then put up your hands, if that would be convenient?!" Interestingly, I had just been listening to a podcast called "The Risk of Frisk," about blacks being stopped ... and even frisked ... simply for walking in a high-crime area. So as I rode away, I kept wondering how my interaction would have gone if I'd been black.

Tomorrow is Friday, my extra day off. No scootering. Yippee.

T-W-O D-W-I

Last night was busy for New Paltz police, EMTs, and firefighters. Roads were wet or iced over in places, and so were some of the drivers.

At 11, a fire call came in from SUNY campus. It was just a false alarm, and I was back by 11:30. No sooner had I stepped into the house than another call came in, this one for a car accident with downed power lines not far from home. I drove there and parked far enough away from the crash that my car didn't get in the way. A young man driving his truck had spun off the road, smashing into a power line before coming to rest in some trees, perpendicular to the road. According to the cop on the scene, a friend of mine, the guy claimed the accident was due to ice, but all of us could tell that this was not true: There was no ice on the road. My pal, Fireman Fred, had this great response: "Oh, his accident was caused by ice, all right -- Molson Ice!"

We closed off the road in one direction while waiting for Central Hudson to arrive. One of the power lines was on the ground but was not 'live,' so the CH man rolled it up and put it out of the way so that the tow truck operator could get at the truck. Meanwhile the driver was taken off to the police station. His totalled truck was impounded. Apparently CH charges $2000 per hour for their time and $2000 for the new utility pole, so the driver is going to have a lot of bills to worry about in addition to his DWI charge. It turns out that while we were taking care of this call, another driver was getting booked for a DWI accident a few miles away.

I got home at 1 and should have gone right to bed, but I was a bit wound up, but first I played a few games of online Scrabble, winning most of them (a sign that I still had my wits about me). Finally I went to bed at around 2am. 40 minutes later, another call came in, this time for a truck that had crashed due to icy conditions. The dispatcher warned that the tarmack near the accident was extremely slick, so I drove there about half as fast as the speed limits for the road. Again I parked out of the way, and as soon as I stepped out of my car, I could tell what caused the mishap: I nearly fell on the icy pavement. It turns out that one of the chiefs did fall down, hurting his back and gashing a finger, but he stayed on the scene. The driver of this truck was drunk, too, but the accident was definitely caused more by the road than by his inebriation; unfortunately for him, he still got charged with DWI. As was the case with the earlier accident, his truck looked fine until the tow truck removed it from the trees, and again, this car was undriveable and would be considered 'totalled.' The difference was that this driver was hurt, possibly more by the airbag than by the crash, or maybe his head injuries were from hitting the driver's side window. He left in an ambulance. We cleared the road of some ice and debris and headed home at about 3:45 am. As I left the accident, I passed a New Paltz sanding truck on its way to making that road safer.

I didn't expect to get much sleep, and just before 8 this morning, I got a wakeup shout from Maeve. We went downstairs for brekky, but before I'd even started my tea, a call came in for a possible fire. Since I have yet to see a fire, I was intrigued by the possibility of a structure fire, and since the address given was on 32N, I drove right there. It was, happily, a false alarm called in by a neighbor who was concerned about the steam coming off a house across the road from hers; the steam did look like smoke, but it was only a case on condensation. Back at the fire house, we the assembled firefighters washed off all of the trucks, and I was back home by 9 with some Starbucks treats for the family.