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Local News, Part One
Something is always happening in my neighborhood. This is despite–or because of–the fact that we live way out in the sticks, up a dirt road more than twenty minutes from town.
Don’t Trust Your GPS Out Here
We have a rough, steep track curving up behind our house with a name approximating “Get Outta Here Road.” Colorful story behind the naming of that one. Anyway, we have constant problems with delivery people getting lost and going up there instead of to our house, causing my daughter to pay a fortune in DoorDash sympathy tips. The sign that used to mark that turn was knocked over long ago (by the snowplow?) and so we have a stream of drivers who either pass it or are incorrectly directed up to that no-man’s land via GPS devices that are apparently in the mood to have some fun.
A few weeks ago, the county had enough. We heard sirens wailing, and an emergency helicopter landed up above us somewhere. An ambulance then passed our house. “Well,” said my younger daughter. “He’ll be turning around and coming back down. He missed the road.” Sure enough–a minute later, the ambulance passed us going back down.
We found out through mysterious neighborhood channels that the emergency involved a guy who had an asthma attack. It was fire season, after all, and I stayed indoors most days due to the smoke. I’m sure he was attended to and will be just fine. Meanwhile, a government census lady visited our house a couple of times pressing my daughters for information about the lay of the land up the hill. The second time, she was sure we knew. Someone had told her that I took walks up there all the time. I have a good idea, but I wasn’t available to talk to her. There are a handful of scattered homes, often built and settled by people from warm Southern states who had romantic notions of the area and fled when they could take no more of the bad road, freezing temps, loads of snow, and iffy neighbor relations on “Get Outta Here Road,” specifically. Who’d have expected that outcome?
Anyway, a few days after the government visit, a clean bright green road sign appeared on our road. Progress. Although the new installment resulted in a flurry of phone messages and calls between me, the neighbor just below the difficult road in question, and the road department, as the sign placement was a little bit off. For now, perplexed drivers would be directed by the proud green sign to make a confident turn . . . right into my neighbor’s driveway.
Published in General
All I can wonder is, why didn’t you all get a new sign replaced sooner? I doubt a medical emergency was required.
I’ve found that in many situations, nobody ever thought to even mention it.
Your poor neighbor.
I hope the misplaced new green sign didn’t involve too many phone calls between the county planning people and the crew that put it up.
Or is your area rural enough that you do not have to suffer through a county planning office?
Asked three times in a year also the the chief deputy asked. No joy. For us three new houses were needful – and several years.
I hear you.
We needed a stop sign to help kids cross a busy two lane street. The matter took years, even though County Supes signed off on it early on.
For some reason, bureaucrats need injured or dead bodies prior to spending money on items that would prevent injuries and fatalities.
That’s surprising. Replacing an existing sign shouldn’t be anywhere near a problem compared to getting a new sign that didn’t exist before.