I have been observing driving habits here in Northeast Pa for the better part of three decades. I have come to understand that the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation driver’s manual is a work of fiction rivaled only by fairytales and some local municipalities ideas of budget control. So here are the updated and corrected rules of the road for NEPA.
First and foremost: The yellow lines in the middle of the road are only put there as a suggestion or maybe as decoration. They really don’t mean anything so feel free to drift over them whenever the spirit moves you. And not just a little. If you feel like taking your half of the road out of the middle, go right ahead!
Turn signals. These devices have been rumored to be an option on cars purchased in Northeast PA but they do serve a function. The procedure is to turn them on as soon as you start driving and leave them on no matter what making everyone guess as to your real intentions.
What if there is an obstruction in your lane on a narrow two lane road? Speed up and get around it at all costs. Ignore traffic oncoming in the other lane like it doesn’t exist. Don’t concern yourself with being in the other lane traveling in the wrong direction.
The left lane on a divided highway is always the travel lane. And it doesn’t mean you have to be going faster than traffic in the right lane. As soon as you get on the turnpike or the interstate plant yourself firmly in the left lane and don’t budge except to make sudden moves to exit. If at all possible have your turn signal on indicating a left hand turn when you swerve to the right. It makes high speed travel much more exhilarating.
Always use your horn and your middle finger when driving. Just giving someone “the finger†does no good if they don’t see it so lay on the horn. What else is it for, anyway?
In winter weather don’t waste time clearing the ice or snow from your car. If you must, scrape a small viewing port in the windshield directly in front of you but forget about cleaning off the side windows or the rear window. It’ll melt eventually. And if you have a big pile of snow and ice on the roof of your auto by all means leave it! Enjoy the view when it flies off and crashes behind you in the path of unsuspecting fellow drivers.
It’s all part of the fun and excitement of a day on the road in Northeast PA.
The road I live on in rural PA, while heavily traveled, is not overly populated. In fact for three miles in either direction you can count the number of homes visible from this busy road on the fingers of one hand.
You can’t really see my house from the road. Especially at the speed you are forced to travel the 35 MPH road by in-a-hurry SUV drivers (About 55 MPH on a good day) who tailgate you or blow horns and middle finger gesture at you if dare to slow them down.
I like not being visible to passers-by. We have lived quiet lives, not so desperate, for 25 years or so without a single trick or treater. Or door to door salesman.
So when I returned from my pleasure ride in my balky, hard to start, aging convertible the other sunny day I was less than pleased to see a brand new black sedan parked smacked in the middle of my driveway.
I reluctantly shut down the car, knowing full well it probably wouldn’t start again. At least not without some carefully chosen epithets.
I am not really as anti-social as this will make me sound. I am MORE anti-social than you can imagine. While string trimming the edges near the road I am often asked how to get to the prison (L.C.C.F. is just a few miles away as the jailbird flies) by travelers in large, newer, luxury vehicles. The window scrolls down electrically and I am asked:
“Say, hows you get to de prison?â€
My reply, without breaking stride is invariably:
“A life of crime is my guess.â€
So it was, as I watched the two ladies in the brightly colored dresses approach, I hoped they would ask for directions. Then I could just be nasty. But no, it wasn’t to be. I heard little that they said. But I heard the word “Watchtower†and it was like a 50 thousand amp cattle prod was doing a colonoscopy on me.
You see I have read the Watchtower. Enough to know that it strongly discourages followers (Jehovah’s Witnesses) from questioning its doctrines and counsel and warns members to “avoid independent thinking”; claiming such thinking “was introduced by Satan the Devil.†From what I gleaned, the Watch Tower Society cultivates a system of unquestioning obedience in which Witnesses give up all responsibility and rights over their personal lives.
I don’t like that. I disapprove strongly.
I exercised my independent thinking.
I invited them to swiftly leave with about seven words that I am certain they had not heard before.
Do I feel great about it? Meh. But as Clint Eastwood said,
Some of the names here have been changed to protect the guilty and the innocent. In the big scheme of things this is not at the top of the list. But still it baffles me why anyone in this economy would turn down money for honest work.
Let me back up here. I have some friends who are part of a club. We will say it’s the ferret club to protect their identities. Imagine a group of ordinary folks who love all things ferrets. They have little gatherings of their little club in the summer, putting the ferrets thru their paces and award trophies for the best ferrets.
Once a month these ferret lovers like to gather and break bread. They choose among all the fine area eating joints and never had a problem. Never until the last meeting, that is.
The ferret club group on this evening numbered 9. They got a table at a local place known for its pizza. They asked the server if it would be a problem if they could please have separate checks and that’s when the night got ugly. I wasn’t there but I can recreate the scene. The waitress snapped her gum and placing her hand on her hip rolled her eyes. “We only do separate checks for parties of 8 or less.†She dug in her heels and as far as she was concerned that was that. The ferret club consulted each other and made a counter offer. They would combine orders so the waitress would need to write only four checks. No sale.
Now bear in mind that there were 9 people. One over the limit and no ferrets in sight. The manager was summoned. He backed his waitress up.
The ferret club looked at each other and agreed to leave and reconvene elsewhere.
I did a quick survey on the phone this morning. I called quite a few different restaurants. Coopers. Ollie’s, Hops and Barley’s. The Chicken Coop. The Dough Company. Pizza Hut. The Olive Garden. Ruby Tuesdays. Cracker Barrel. Red Lobster. Applebees. Lonestar Steak house. The results of my unscientific poll? Each restaurant I called said “no problem.†Would I like to make a reservation?
In the big scheme of things the loss of the restaurant that wouldn’t write separate checks was probably just over $100. The waitress, if she was tipped 20% would have made $20.
It’s not much money I know. But let me put it to you another way. One of the ferret club gave me a gift certificate to the restaurant in question. Why? They had received it as a gift and didn’t want to ever go back there, even for free.
Ask yourself this. If you owned this restaurant, would you want that to happen?
I have decided to not return to L.C.C.C. as an instructor this semester. In almost 12 years I have only missed one other semester, and that was when pressures at the radio station forced my hand.
This time it’s my choice, mostly. Circumstances at the main source of income have changed and I have been asked to pitch in a bit more. It’s more responsibility (read: more work, more hours) so I don’t feel I can do both. Especially since the course I was teaching needs to be re-written.
–
I am somewhat conflicted about all this. The last two semesters have been the most interesting and rewarding ones in some years. But also the most frustrating. Many of my students were a pleasure. A handful should learn manners, which as I perceive it, was not my job.
–
I am unsure what to write for the WEEKENDER this week. Not an uncommon occurrence. I hate to add to the tsunami of ink over that cocksucker former judge but maybe I must put my spin on it.
–
I have a lot on anger these days. I don’t know. Maybe I need an anger management course. I wrote something very vile the other day about Jehovah’s Witnesses…no, not about them but about my behavior to them, that I wonder why.
–
The goofy neighbor now has three Jack Russell terrorists. They circumvent my $10,000 fence with aplomb and scurry around my yard. I like dogs. I dislike my goofy neighbor intensely. I worry that something bad will happen to his pets on my property. Really, I do, because if it does it will be war. I wouldn’t harm a hair on the mutts heads. I would cheerfully hold my neighbor underwater until the bubbles stop. See, the anger?
–
It’s almost Fall. I realize that it’s not, but when we are halfway through August the fairs and fests begin to advertise, the back to school sales really begin in earnest and the leaves start to infiltrate the pool. I hate winter. I love Fall.
–
Except for the leaves.
–
I have loads to do. WEEKENDER column to pull out of my ass. A story about the scuba diving NASCAR truck series driver to write. And the obligatory yard sales to attend this AM.
Thanks for reading this tripe.
The Rant D’Jour invites you to improve your mind. Read the funny papers. Poor old Scranton (that’s Scra-ann to some). It’s always been the butt of jokes…more
Poor old Scranton (that’s Scra-ann to some). It’s always been the butt of jokes and ridicule but now the joke has spread to the funny pages. Back in the days of vaudeville Scranton and Wilkes-Barre both were fairly important stops on the tours. The legend goes that booking agents for New York would try out acts in this area because the audiences were difficult to please. The catch phrase became “If you can make it in Scranton, you can make it anywhere!”
Over the years Scranton has made it to the big and little screens but not always with a positive spin. Witness this exchange from the legendary TV show “”All in the Family”
Archie:”We’re going to fly to Florida”
Edith: “Florida? No, I want to go to Scranton.”
Archie:”Scranton? What’s in Scranton?”
Edith: “My cousin Emily”.
Archie:”The only way you’ll get me to fly to Scranton is if some screwball hijacks the plane.”
In the Movie “Home Alone†Macaulay Culkin’s mother ends up in van with John Candy’s Polka band in Scranton. It’s a very funny scene.
In the “Sopranos†Paulie Walnuts takes a trip to Boston and describes it as “Scranton with Clams.â€
Andy Rooney in a 60 minutes segment mentioned the Electric City in a disparaging way commenting on housing prices here (he thought they were too low) and the fact that garbage collection was suspended on Columbus Day.
Then of course there was the wonderful portrayal of Scranton in Jason Millers “That Championship Season.†If you’ve never seen it it’s worth it for the scene where the Mayor hands out roses. You can’t make this stuff up.
But I think this is the first time we ever made the funny pages.
On Friday August 1st, 2008 The King Features syndicated cartoon “Blondie†showed tightwad Dagwood trying to buy a birthday gift for his long suffering wife Blondie.
He turns down perfume from “Roberto Lemongello of Naples at $125 an ounce and from “Antonio Scentonelli of Venice†at $65 per ounce. In the last panel we see Dagwood and Blondie on the couch as Dagwood proudly hands her genuine “Ted McGillicutty of Scranton†for $6.50 an ounce.
Blondie is delighted.
Blondie, whose maiden name was Boopadoop and Dagwood appear in 2,300 newspapers all around the world and have been translated into 35 different languages in 55 countries and are read by an estimated 280 million people every day.
I sense a marketing opportunity. If someone could bottle the essence of Scranton (and I am not real sure what that would smell like) and sell it as “Genuine Ted McGillicutty of Scranton†I bet you could get more than $6.50 an ounce.
I am terrible hard on lawnmowers. Almost every year I bend the blades like you see above. Usually it’s on the big riding mower.
One year I had twisted up the blades on the tractor but I thought I could set the mower up high enough to just finish the back forty. So I tried. It was a pretty futile effort. I would get about ten feet done then the blade would sink into the uneven ground and stall the mower after gouging a blade sized hole in the lawn. What made this interesting was the roofers watching me as they worked on replacing the gutters on the ranch. Eventually just before the mower gave up and stalled out and wouldn’t start one of them came over and remarked that maybe I ought to quit while I was ahead. Too late!
I am actually kind of scared about using lawn mowers. The tractor does not bother me but I am always a have trepidations about the push model.
I blame Gary Drapek. Gary is President/CEO at United Way of Lackawanna County. In my media days I had frequent contact with him.
One day he told me about the time his mower discharged the blade at him while running at high speed. I don’t recall/have erased from my mind the outcome. I do know Gary does have both legs so that’s good. But it still gives me the willies.
Thanks, Gary!
Still, it doesn’t keep me from ruining blades on a regular basis. I just drink more to steady my nerves.
-30-
The Rant D’Jour is about a yard sale day gone awry. I had a sleepless night and the day wasn’t going according to plan so I was already on edge when the goof backed into the long suffering wife’s car…more
I had a sleepless night and the day wasn’t going according to plan so I was already on edge when the goof backed into the long suffering wife’s car.
Let me back up here. For years while I toiled at my former so called career I would have sleepless nights and learned to deal. But it’s been months since I tossed and turned like the other night. So that morning my nerves were already jangled. To add insult to injury I had put myself on a strict diet the week before and we all know what that does to your outlook on life.
So this Saturday morning while we made the rounds of yard sales I was in a foul, grey mood to say the least. Part of the problem is the mysterious issue of the “ghost sales.†That’s what we call the ones that are advertised in the paper but don’t happen. You find the house per the classified but no sale. What gives? Why bother? The only thing we can figure is that they are in cahoots with big oil and want us to waste gas. This particular morning we had already not found three ghost sales.
I was already annoyed when we parked behind a Jeep Cherokee at our first sale of the day. But I really do enjoy going to yard sales. Finding an occasional bargain makes it worthwhile and you are always meeting interesting folks. It’s cheap entertainment and something to do on a weekend morning. I nodded hello at a man who was just leaving and started to scan the items on tables in the front yard.
I don’t know why but I happened to glance over and watched in horror as the Jeep started to back into our car. Not just any car. My WIFE’S car, which she lavishes care on. “Wait hold it STOP†I yelled but the goof plowed into the nose of the car with a loud crunch. I ran in front of the jeep yelling “Don’t you drive off!â€
The guy got out and went over with me to inspect the damage. As we bent over he said to me “I wasn’t going to leave.â€
I looked at him and could feel the rage boil up in me. “How the hell would I know that?†I asked. “You were stupid enough to back into my car!â€
“Well you were right on my bumper, I couldn’t see you,†he said.
Somewhere there is a man in Jeep Cherokee who has a guardian angel. It’s the only explanation I have for why I didn’t flatten his nose like he tried to do to the wife’s car.
I rarely leave less than a 20% tip. Even if the service is completely unacceptable I will leave at least 10%. I know that most of the problems that occur when you are dining out are not the fault of the server. I am also aware of how little they make in wages and that tips are a big part of their income. There is nothing like good service. And the other night I got nothing like good service. And for the first time I can remember I left almost no tip.
The long-suffering wife and I ventured to Lackawanna County for a book signing. By the way, my book “And then again I could be wrong†is on sale at bookstores near you. And Amazon.com. Shameless plug out. Dinner was courtesy of a gift card at a chain with the same name as a cartoon character. Not our first choice, but hey, free is good, right? Wrong!
Our server was a chirpy overly friendly one who called us “guys†all night. I hate that. It got worse. I ordered chicken. My wife ordered chopped steak. That’s basically a hamburger ,no bun. We waited, and waited and waited. No word of lie, it was ½ hour before our dinners came. Chirpy waitress came by every so often and apologized saying “Guys, I’ll check and see what’s taking so long.†She said that three times.
Finally the long lost food arrives. My wife asks always for well done. If you know about E. coli you know why. Her hamburg was bright red and bloody inside. This after waiting a half hour? So it was sent back. Our waitress couldn’t have been more apologetic. Ok, this was not her fault but the offer of free deserts to make up for it sounded great. I distinctly heard “Free Deserts†plural.
I have a good clear voice. So I am sure chirpy waitress heard me place the order for two to go. I even pointed out the two on the menu. Of course you know she only brought one, right? I am guessing she was told by someone in charge that for our “trouble†we deserved only one. At that point the 10% tip I had figured on leaving didn’t seem like it was earned. So I screwed her on the tip. I think I left her 32 cents.
Do I feel good about this? On reflection, no. But up until she made an offer to make it good then shorted us I was willing to play along. Lesson learned. Free is good, but sometimes you get what you pay for.
WCFR, at least for the most part, was a dream come true for me. I loved working on the radio, my needs were being met because I was living at home with Mom and Dad (Although this would eventually become not so great, more later) and I was expecting my first child!
The program director at WCFR, Dylan McDermit, paid no attention to me. I got most of my feedback from a former classmate from college, Rick Kelly, who was also working at the radio station perched high above the town on a hill in Springfield, Vermont.
The WCFR studios were the most soundproof I have ever worked in. The actual broadcasting area of the building was underground and under many feet of lead lined, hardened cement. It seems that the government was, at one time, handing out subsidies to radio stations if they would build studios that were bomb-proof. Carlos Zezza obviously took the money but actually did it, digging the studios deep into a hillside. There were Geiger counters, survival rations and mysterious sealed boxes marked “Open only if under attack” which gave one pause.
One time I noticed a huge earth-mover perched to the side of the parking lot. I thought nothing of it and went in to do my shift. When I took a break and wandered outside I found the Caterpillar D4 track-type tractor, a bulldozer weighing five tons, running back and forth over the studio area. I hadn’t heard a thing!
Rick Kelly (Eric Elemendorf) who I would years later on be forced into firing (sorry, Rick) taught me oodles about programming, what worked what didn’t and how to tell. He also got me out of the “yucking†stage of announcing. A “yucker†throws his voice into an unnaturally deep mode and draws out words. It’s a parody of announcing and it sounds awful. I was deep into it. Rick kicked me in the ass and made me stop. I owed him and I did eventually get him work in a bigger market with me. Also fired him. Radio sucks sometimes.
But after the purgatory that was WJNC, playing top 40 records for a living, talking on the radio and soaking up the skills that would serve me well in coming years, WCFR was pretty great.
With a 5000 watt signal on 1490 AM we had a geographic reach that was huge. Of course the station was only a “Daytimerâ€, sunrise to sunset, but in those days it wasn’t that big a deal.
The equipment at WCFR was old but very serviceable and it all worked. The station had a full time Chief Engineer who was equal parts genius and mad scientist.
He also weighed in at about 500 lbs.
“Gordy†(never knew his last name) was a huge man with terrible hygiene. We knew for a fact that he bred flies in the crack of his ass because we would find maggot larvae on the toilet seat (which was usually pretty much demolished by his tremendous bulk) after he shat out one of his legendary meals. I once saw Gordy eat four chain store Bar B Q chickens in one sitting. I never found any bones in the garbage so I assume, like an owl, he ate everything.
Gordy would park his 1965 lemon yellow (faded) Chrysler Newport near the Springfield A&P, consume mass quantities of food and fall asleep. The car listed badly to the left as I am sure the shocks and springs had long ago succumbed to Gordy’s tonnage. The car had so many antennas in every location that it looked like some sort of cross between an insect and a porcupine. In those days you summoned an engineer with a radio, cell phones being a distant dream. Gordy could talk to Jupiter with the various transmitters in his jalopy. Gordy was out there. But he did a great job keeping WCFR on the air.
WCFR had the best ribbon mike I ever worked behind. Pictured here:
The Altec Lansing 639a looked to my eye like the mask on a medieval suit of armor. It was a fat sounding mike with unreal proximity effect (the closer you got, the more bass it produced) and made me feel like I was Thurl Ravenscroft-the guy who sang the “Grinch song.†It was a heavy unit and the folks at WCFR were too cheap to buy a mike stand so it was suspended above the console with some sort of chain rig. You could raise or lower it by hooking the chains at different points. One day it came loose and darn near took me out!
Those who have ever worked on the air on an AM station will understand this; those who have not will think I have been smoking something strong. I have never thought that I sounded as good as an announcer, at least in terms of vocal quality, as I did on AM. It makes no sense from a technical standpoint. FM is capable of carrying far more sound information than AM. But maybe that is what I mean. AM gave me “Balls†and confidence. The first time I heard myself on FM I thought I had been castrated!
The music in 1974 was wonderful. WCFR was a traditional Top-40 station in that they played most every song that charted. Oddly enough my younger son, James, was born July of that year, the month that (You’re) Having My Baby – Paul Anka, started its rise to Number One with a bullet. As sappy as it was I dedicated that tune to my wife every time I played it. The listeners must have been having dry heaves by the time James was born. Rick yelled at me when I did this.
“Don’t be so trite!” he would tell me.
I ignored him.
The best thing for me was that I was finally getting to play Let It Ride – Bachman Turner Overdrive on the radio! I turned the monitor up to Armageddon levels and cranked my headphone volume to the max every time it came up in rotation.
Here is a chart from May of 1974, about the time I would have started at WCFR:
This Week/Previous Week Title/Artist
20. 23. Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me – Gladys Knight & The Pips
19. 10. Dark Lady – Cher {1 Week @ #1}
18. 24. Help Me – Joni Mitchell
17. 18. Let It Ride – Bachman•Turner Overdrive
16. 17. Tell Me A Lie – Sammie Jo
15. 19. The Entertainer – Marvin Hamlisch
14. 22. Tubular Bells – Mike Oldfield
13. 20. You Make Me Feel Brand New – Stylistics
12. 14. Piano Man – Billy Joel
11. 7. Star – Stealers Wheel
10. 5. Bennie and The Jets – Elton John {1 Week @ #1}
9. 13. (I’ve Been) Searchin’ So Long – Chicago
8. 11. Oh My My – Ringo Starr
7. 8. Rock And Roll Hoochie Koo – Rick Derringer
6. 9. Midnight At The Oasis – Maria Muldaur
5. 1. In The Mood – Bette Midler {1 Week @ #1}
4. 6. The Locomotion – Grand Funk Railroad
3. 4. The Sounds Of Philadelphia – MFSB f/Three Degrees
2. 2. Jet – Paul McCartney & Wings
1. 3. Hooked On A Feeling – Blue Swede {1 Week @ #1}
Top-40 jocks were supposed to be funny, quick with a line about the songs they played. I once said (and I probably stole this)
“There’s Maria Muldaur and when it’s Midnight at the Oasis the Arabs are eating their dates.â€
Rick Kelly yelled at me for that one but no one else seemed to notice.
James came into the world in the usual way. My Mother and Edna got into it over breast feeding James (Mom dead set against it, Edna stubbornly not giving in) and we vacated the family homestead. Edna and I moved into the first of a series of bad apartments we would live in for most of our married lives and big changes occurred at WCFR.
NEXT: WCFR is sold, I become management by default and I began to have anxiety attacks.
The Rant D’Jour is about a bad restaurant experience.
I rarely leave less than a 20% tip. Even if the service is completely unacceptable I will leave at least 10%. I know that most of the problems…The more
