Enraged!Posted: September 17, 2013
Enraged, really? Ok, I’m being a little dramatic, but take into consideration that what I’m about to post pulled me out of a long blogging slumber.
Hubs and I just celebrated four years in Central PA and for the most part we love living here. We love the history. We love the farmers markets. We love all the quirky independent shops and amazing restaurants. We love the active lifestyle, parks, and open air concerts. And we love our little house in the country.
One thing we don’t love…the never ending ROAD WORK!! Seriously Central PA! How can we have so much road work and still have the world’s crappiest roads? I’m completely baffled. And while we’re at it, I never have understood why Central Pennsylvania won’t put shoulders on their roads. We live in an area heavily populated by Amish. THEY NEED SHOULDERS!! WE ALL NEED SHOULDERS!! The all-caps are meant to emphasize my rage.
You might be wondering, “why now?” After all, I’ve lived here for four years and never complained about the road work before. This is true. Until recent months, I didn’t have a young child with me in my car. A little road traffic was only a minor inconvenience or irritation. But now, there are feeding schedules. There a nap schedules. Strict schedules, Central PA DOT!! (I’m not actually sure this is DOT’s fault, but I’m feeling compelled to point blame.)
On Tuesdays, I head to market. The farmers markets in Central PA are treasures. The baby is fed. The diaper bag is packed. Three hours until next feeding and nap. Market is a mere 20-30 minute drive depending on traffic. I’ve got my grocery list. I know exactly which market stands I’m headed to. Shopping shouldn’t take more than 30 minutes tops and that includes browsing and a quick scone stop.
From my house, I take a detour to get to the highway. There’s road work on the main thoroughfare out to the highway. The road has been closed since April. Yes, you read that right…since April. No big deal. I’m used to the slight detour. I take the river roads to the highway. They’re more scenic anyhow. Not a mile down the road, I encounter my first road work sign. Luckily, it’s just tree trimming. I have to stop for the lane closure, but it’s early and the wait is short.
I make it nearly to the highway when I see the next road work sign. This time, it’s sidewalk construction and maintenance on the bridge. I take a deep breath and let it go. The morning is beautiful and I love driving over the Susquehanna on days like this. The sun shines down in all its glory on the rocky river. Traffic is slow across the bridge, but it’s not stopping.
Twenty minutes, one road closure and two road work areas later, I get to the highway where I see an electronic sign flashing…”Road Work Ahead. Expect Delays.” Seriously! SERIOUSLY!! It’s Tuesday. By this time, it’s morning rush hour. Road work during rush hour? Who’s brilliant idea was that?
We come to a complete stop, twice. We sit for another 20 minutes. I start to question whether farm fresh milk, vegetables picked yesterday, and grass feed pork are worth it. Hell, yes! The road work will not defeat me today. We’ve lost nearly an hour, but my little one seems satisfied in the back seat playing with her ducky and eating puffs .
We take the recommended detour to bypass some of the traffic where we run into…you guessed it, more road work. What the f$&k? You can’t do road work on the highway and the detour!! We stop, again. The baby is starting to get fussy now. I’ve lost track of time. We’re so close to market. So close.
We start moving again and roll into downtown Lancaster. All seems well, until…road work. Seems the whole of downtown is being resurfaced. I park the car. My soul is broken as I push the stroller over the road work at the crosswalks on the way to market.
Thankfully, the pain of the drive is a memory soon forgotten. Market is wonderful. There’s a soft glow encompassing the historic market building. The morning is cool. The sun is bright. Baby is happy to be out of the car. Life is good for few minutes.
And then we have to drive home.