From a letter I sent to the Monroe, New York, “Photo News” in July of 2005:
“To the editor:
This is a friendly letter to our new Monroe drivers who can’t drive the speed. On many occasions I’ve been on Lakes road and 17m with some Kong sized SUV riding behind me with their horn going and lights flashing. I’m doing the speed. I know it may be hard for some to comprehend the big black numbers posted on the signs around here, but last time I checked that’s how fast we’re supposed to go. We have lots of kids running around, and a lot of displaced animals from the building that enjoy kamikaze dives into the road. I rather not put my life and the drivers around me in jeopardy because some mental midget wants to shave five minutes off their drive. Don’t think for a second honking your horn is going to make me or other safe motorists speed up. And when your epic decision to hit the horn harder than a lot of us wants to smack George W. Bush doesn’t work, don’t flash your lights. If the horn didn’t work, what makes you think flashing your lights are going to do anything? Doing the speed saves lives, limits accidents, and let’s be honest here, those five minutes or so you save by speeding are not worth it.”
I was a child of the suburbs. Long Island’s Nassau County was crowded, noisy, and quite possibly the closest thing to “car hell” you can get to in this world without being in the middle of a demolition derby. When my parents decided to move to Monroe, New York, back in nineteen eighty-eight they wanted to go to a place where there wasn’t any traffic, people were much calmer, and the idea of a non-orthodox Jewish family was frightening to the locals. I made up that last part. Although there were times when I was little where I felt maybe I wasn’t exaggerating. I’m thinking of Principal Skinner’s lines in The Simpsons, “What? It sounds so made up, Yom-Kip-oor.” The traffic though, that was the kicker. The house I live in when I’m home from Potsdam sits on an intersection. When we first came up there you could go hours before you saw a car drive up it. Now you see a car every five minutes or so; sometimes less than that.
Article comments