It is possible to both know something and have an experience that perfectly crystalizes what something actually means. That’s the way I felt on a recent morning when I had two such experiences within minutes. I needed to drop my car of for some work and didn’t have anyone who could give me a ride. Fortunately there was an Enterprise Rental store right around the corner. Now Enterprise will pick you up, but you have to actually get them on the phone first. Good luck with that. That particular services is a burden to the local store and is not managed or tracked as part of the reservation process. But I digress.
Like I said, the two businesses were really close to each other. Unfortunately, there’s an Interstate highways, and fenced in industrial park, and a car sales lot under construction between those two point. Despite being able to see one business from the other, there was actually almost a mile drive between them. I planned my time and allotted 15 minutes to walk the span. I would not think twice about walking that far in New York, Europe, or Asia … possibly supplemented with public transportation and maybe even a cab. Even on a beautiful morning, it was sort of a last resort. I drop off my car before the business opens and head off walking to the rental car store.
The road is a simple two lane road. There’s no curb, no shoulder, no sidewall. There is wet grass and an even wetter ditch between the road and a fence. This is the same fence that forms a perimeter that I must circumnavigate. I’ve been taught to walk on the left facing traffic from a young age so that’s what I was doing. The road is deserted as it is fairly early still. I see a lone car coming down the road. I observe as the drive veers toward me. I saw the driver’s face looking right at me with a malicious grin. This was not an absent minded or impaired driver. He seemingly lined up so the his front tire was right on the edge of the roadway so that I was perfectly lined up with his right front headlight. Acting only on instinct as my brain was not comprehending what was happening, I flinched off the roadway onto the wet muddy grass. I ducked around a speed limit sign as if this guy would think twice about hitting the sign even though I had no problem hitting me. I was wearing a jacket with my hands in the pockets. His car actually struck my right arm and spun me away slightly. It was over before I realized it. I watched him drive on, drifting casually back to the center of the road. I was not hurt but in a bit of shock for the remainder of my little walk.
Next to the interstate is what will soon be a car dealership so I was able to cut across that. There was a sidewalk and traffic light to help me go under the highway. There was not cross walk or pedestrian control for the intersection. I crossed to the other side without incident.
It was on the other side that I saw the most absurd evidence of the utter hostility that this town has for its pedestrian population. There indeed a sidewalk in front of and around the business. But that was all the sidewalk there was. And there was no way to get to said sidewalk as there was a huge uncrossable ditch between said sidewalk and the road. I imaged some poor soul some how magically transported to the other end of this segment would ride along and be in for a big drop if they didn’t stop. There’s even a fence on the other side of the corner lest some had the notion of walking or riding were the sidewalk ought to be. I’m sure there’s some zoning inspector was able to put a checkmark in the affirmative becuase there is indeed, a sidewalk in front of this building. I just had to take a picture while I walked along the rocky shoulder of the interstate service road.
I later had to look a the Google Maps view of the area. The picture isa bit dated but you can clearly see the shiny new sidewalk in front of the building but not connected to anything.
I live in a town of 400,000 people in the heart of a population center of 8.6 million people, up a million people since 2020. This town distinction of being the largest city in the United States that was not served by a public transportation system. That disdain and apathy for those who choose not do take on the debt and liability of a care, are apparent in the design of the neighborhoods and roadways. The result is that a lone psycho in a Toyota Camry saw my pedestrian use of the roadway as an afront to his entitlement to the entire road.
The title of this post refers to the 1974 collection of poetry and illustrations by Shel Silverstein called Where the Sidewalk Ends. It is yet another classic example of a book that I never read as a child despite being painfully aware that all of my peers read it, at least those of the female persuasion.