Blooming Glen Bumper Cars

"You go."
"No, you go."
"No, no, I insist, you go."
"Oh, please, it's no bother. You go."
"Well, if I must...gun it, Buzz!!":

   As I drove past the Pennridge Gospel Tabernacle church, I noticed a hubbub at the intersection of Blooming Glen Road and Route 113. 

    Drawing closer, I saw what it was. 

    Two men were sweeping glass and pieces of orange plastic from the road.  Just beyond them, a four-door sedan faced traffic, its nose pushed up like a pug’s.  A young girl (when you’re in your 50’s, any female qualifies as a “young girl”) walked toward them from a front yard on the corner.  A maroon van-apparently hers-sat smashed against a set of hedges, its right side caved in like a kid’s toy.  She held a sheaf of paper in what looked like trembling hands.

    The occupants of the house stood at their porch rail, silently observing the little drama which had come paying a call that morning.

    I drew up to the stop sign and, having the luxury of no one behind me, continued watching.  Zipping down Blooming Glen Road past the Post Office, was a Hilltown police cruiser, its lights flashing.  It ground to a halt in front of the “Auto Pug,” lights still on.  The now sobbing girl approached the vehicle; I saw no sign of the driver of the other car.

    Maybe he was one of the ones sweeping up?  That seemed odd to me because how many us carry push brooms in our trunks?  Unless you’re one of the lesser-known superheroes:  Janitor Man.

   I grimaced and tsk-tsked (as middle-aged men are wont to do).  Well, there you are, I thought.  As anyone who’s had the dubious fortune of riding with me will attest, I hate that intersection.

   Even though I don’t have the statistics to back me up, the juncture of those two roads is an adventure at the very least and bumper car dangerous at its worst.

   Built during a time when most people used horses to get around, Blooming Glen Road and Route 113 just don’t do well when it comes to modern traffic.  Not your standard crossing, with each street at 90 degree angles to each other, its blind spots often hide cars zipping north or south.  The result is that you hold your breath each time you attempt to get from one side of Blooming Glen to the other. 

    Many’s the time I timed my crossing only to have my rear wheels spin helplessly on rain or ice as a car barreled down on me.  My eyes grew wide and my heart made the physiologically impossible leap to my throat-as I’m sure the other guy’s does-before I finally find traction enough to escape.

    If any intersection calls for a traffic light, this one does.  At the very least, making it a four-way stop would go a long way to easing people’s piece of mind and keeping cars out of other people’s yards.

   

    I’m not sure whose fault it was and I really don’t think it matters.

    It sure didn’t matter to the owner of that minivan.

"Oh, MF!!
Now I'll never get home in time for SportsCenter!"