“Would you like to run a vehicle health-check?”
So here I am last Saturday (December 27th, 2014) calmly bopping south on Pennsylvania Turnpike’s Northeast-Extension, cruise set about 70, getting passed of course — the speed-limit is 65.....
Headed toward south Jersey to visit cousins, and my last surviving aunt, their mother; she’s 84.....
And cruising back Monday (December 29th).....
Suddenly a disembodied female voice barks from my car’s radio: “Would you like to run a vehicle health-check?
Click okay if yes, or if you want to be reminded later.”
WHAAA..... What kind of question is that?
Does anyone at Ford have understanding of logic and language?
If they asked me to read that, I’d REFUSE and raise the red flag.
I used to do that at the Messenger Newspaper, and they appreciated it. It saved them from noisy blustering from RIGHT-WINGERS.
I clicked okay, and wonder what I okayed: -1) an actual vehicle health-check? Supposedly they e-mail it to me, but they never have, or -2) be reminded later to do a vehicle health-check, “later” again in a couple months, then “later” again a few months later. Essentially never, because we keep kicking the can down the road, or -3) BOTH, an actual health-check right now, and then be reminded a few months later when the next health-check is due.
Whatever, I never get no e-mail.
I said to the lady who owns the kennel that boards my dog I wasn’t looking forward to this trip.
The Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike was built 1955-57, and extends Turnpike service up into northeastern PA.
The Pennsylvania Turnpike was partially opened in 1940, the first limited-access boom-and-zoom highway. It now extends across the state — extensions, like into Philadelphia, and to the Ohio and Jersey Turnpikes, were added later.
Both Pennsylvania Turnpike highways are toll-roads, and don’t have the wide median found on interstates. It used to be there was little separation between directions — invitation for catastrophic head-ons — but now gigantic concrete barriers separate the directions.
There is only one tunnel on the Northeast Extension, a tunnel that bores Blue Mountain.
It used to be only one two-lane bore at first; now there are twin bores.
As the Northeast Extension approaches Philadelphia it gets quite busy.
Two years ago when I last drove it they were widening it to three lanes per side from the original two.
It was still two lanes per side, bumper-to-bumper at 70 mph in the slow-lane, bumper-to-bumper at 80 in the passing-lane.
I was in the slow-lane, but still intense concentration was required.
Now the three lanes per side are finished, so it’s no longer bumper-to-bumper.
Still, it’s a long trip for someone my age, or so it seemed — I’m 70.
First I have to get down to the NY/PA border, about an hour on rural two-lanes to avoid a dogleg interstate. I can hold about 50 to 65.
Then there’s a long journey east on NY’s Southern Expressway, from where I get on at Bath to Binghamton.
At Binghamton I get on I-81 south to where the Northeast Extension begins near Scranton.
I tried to do this same journey for Thanksgiving, but never made Binghamton. I got past Elmira, but had to turn around. As I traveled east the snow got worse, and I saw a car skid off the road.
But this trip was much easier. It was warm and the sun was out.
The only thing irksome was the length of each segment.
Bath to Binghamton is over an hour, and Binghamton to the Northeast Extension almost an hour. The entire Northeast Extension is perhaps an hour and 45 minutes, but the only traffic-jam I encountered was where the route merges into Interstate-95 near Chester (PA).
I also have E-ZPass so can skirt the jam-ups at toll-plazas.
In Chester I’d take the Commodore Barry Bridge across the Delaware River into Jersey, and from there I had Google-maps and GPS.
But I never used GPS. I was getting to my destination about 5 p.m., and it was still twilight. I could still see some roadside pipes that signal my destination.
I was also afraid of upsetting my aunt. She can be persnickety, and so can I. She can get my Irish up, but I didn’t want that to happen; she’s 84.
But we had a really good time. We brought pictures; I had two old family albums: ‘30s, ‘40s, and ‘50s.
One album had the picture at left, a high-school graduation picture when she was almost 18.
I showed it to her and said “what happened?” She laughed; she delivers snide remarks like that herself.
In fact, she’s probably best when she can. We were hurling snide remarks back-and-forth at each other, a rollicking good time.
If there was anything depressing about this visit it was my Uncle Al, my aunt’s first and only husband, now married to my aunt’s best friend.
The last time I saw him, perhaps 65 years ago, he was young and spry.
Now he’s all hobbled and bent over, and can hardly walk.
Another was my cousin’s wife’s brother who has Parkinson’s and slurred speech. He gets around pretty good, but a hand shakes.
My younger brother suggests my aunt is on her last legs.
But I don’t think so.
Not after all the fun we had.
Her mind still works fine, although it can lead her astray.
It’s not like she’s so feeble we have to prop her up.
She can spout snide remarks like old times.
She wasn’t using a walker to get around, although she has one.
She has to make sure she doesn’t fall, but so do I.
“Do you remember that RPM sign?” I asked. “It was the time of neon.” That’s about 1950.
“When your parents did that, my mother thought they were crazy,” she said.
“They were desperate,” someone said. She was referring to when my parents took my sick brother to Arkansas, an experimental clinic. My brother had leukemia and eventually died. That was 1953.
So now I get to experience the grief my parents experienced: the loss of a child.
Although in my case it’s my beloved wife of 44+ years.
But swapping snide remarks with my aunt was a pleasant distraction.
It’s too bad she’s seven hours away.
And I return tho the usual empty house = sadness.
She called at least twice afterward, to tell me she had a good time.
But I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and I was going to say the same thing.
• My wife died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her dearly.
Headed toward south Jersey to visit cousins, and my last surviving aunt, their mother; she’s 84.....
And cruising back Monday (December 29th).....
Suddenly a disembodied female voice barks from my car’s radio: “Would you like to run a vehicle health-check?
Click okay if yes, or if you want to be reminded later.”
WHAAA..... What kind of question is that?
Does anyone at Ford have understanding of logic and language?
If they asked me to read that, I’d REFUSE and raise the red flag.
I used to do that at the Messenger Newspaper, and they appreciated it. It saved them from noisy blustering from RIGHT-WINGERS.
I clicked okay, and wonder what I okayed: -1) an actual vehicle health-check? Supposedly they e-mail it to me, but they never have, or -2) be reminded later to do a vehicle health-check, “later” again in a couple months, then “later” again a few months later. Essentially never, because we keep kicking the can down the road, or -3) BOTH, an actual health-check right now, and then be reminded a few months later when the next health-check is due.
Whatever, I never get no e-mail.
I said to the lady who owns the kennel that boards my dog I wasn’t looking forward to this trip.
The Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike was built 1955-57, and extends Turnpike service up into northeastern PA.
The Pennsylvania Turnpike was partially opened in 1940, the first limited-access boom-and-zoom highway. It now extends across the state — extensions, like into Philadelphia, and to the Ohio and Jersey Turnpikes, were added later.
Both Pennsylvania Turnpike highways are toll-roads, and don’t have the wide median found on interstates. It used to be there was little separation between directions — invitation for catastrophic head-ons — but now gigantic concrete barriers separate the directions.
There is only one tunnel on the Northeast Extension, a tunnel that bores Blue Mountain.
It used to be only one two-lane bore at first; now there are twin bores.
As the Northeast Extension approaches Philadelphia it gets quite busy.
Two years ago when I last drove it they were widening it to three lanes per side from the original two.
It was still two lanes per side, bumper-to-bumper at 70 mph in the slow-lane, bumper-to-bumper at 80 in the passing-lane.
I was in the slow-lane, but still intense concentration was required.
Now the three lanes per side are finished, so it’s no longer bumper-to-bumper.
Still, it’s a long trip for someone my age, or so it seemed — I’m 70.
First I have to get down to the NY/PA border, about an hour on rural two-lanes to avoid a dogleg interstate. I can hold about 50 to 65.
Then there’s a long journey east on NY’s Southern Expressway, from where I get on at Bath to Binghamton.
At Binghamton I get on I-81 south to where the Northeast Extension begins near Scranton.
I tried to do this same journey for Thanksgiving, but never made Binghamton. I got past Elmira, but had to turn around. As I traveled east the snow got worse, and I saw a car skid off the road.
But this trip was much easier. It was warm and the sun was out.
The only thing irksome was the length of each segment.
Bath to Binghamton is over an hour, and Binghamton to the Northeast Extension almost an hour. The entire Northeast Extension is perhaps an hour and 45 minutes, but the only traffic-jam I encountered was where the route merges into Interstate-95 near Chester (PA).
I also have E-ZPass so can skirt the jam-ups at toll-plazas.
In Chester I’d take the Commodore Barry Bridge across the Delaware River into Jersey, and from there I had Google-maps and GPS.
But I never used GPS. I was getting to my destination about 5 p.m., and it was still twilight. I could still see some roadside pipes that signal my destination.
I was also afraid of upsetting my aunt. She can be persnickety, and so can I. She can get my Irish up, but I didn’t want that to happen; she’s 84.
But we had a really good time. We brought pictures; I had two old family albums: ‘30s, ‘40s, and ‘50s.
 |
| My Aunt May in 1948 or so. |
I showed it to her and said “what happened?” She laughed; she delivers snide remarks like that herself.
In fact, she’s probably best when she can. We were hurling snide remarks back-and-forth at each other, a rollicking good time.
If there was anything depressing about this visit it was my Uncle Al, my aunt’s first and only husband, now married to my aunt’s best friend.
The last time I saw him, perhaps 65 years ago, he was young and spry.
Now he’s all hobbled and bent over, and can hardly walk.
Another was my cousin’s wife’s brother who has Parkinson’s and slurred speech. He gets around pretty good, but a hand shakes.
My younger brother suggests my aunt is on her last legs.
But I don’t think so.
Not after all the fun we had.
Her mind still works fine, although it can lead her astray.
It’s not like she’s so feeble we have to prop her up.
She can spout snide remarks like old times.
She wasn’t using a walker to get around, although she has one.
She has to make sure she doesn’t fall, but so do I.
“Do you remember that RPM sign?” I asked. “It was the time of neon.” That’s about 1950.
“When your parents did that, my mother thought they were crazy,” she said.
“They were desperate,” someone said. She was referring to when my parents took my sick brother to Arkansas, an experimental clinic. My brother had leukemia and eventually died. That was 1953.
So now I get to experience the grief my parents experienced: the loss of a child.
Although in my case it’s my beloved wife of 44+ years.
But swapping snide remarks with my aunt was a pleasant distraction.
It’s too bad she’s seven hours away.
And I return tho the usual empty house = sadness.
She called at least twice afterward, to tell me she had a good time.
But I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and I was going to say the same thing.
• My wife died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her dearly.
posted by BobbaLew at 5:16 PM
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