A Site for Shore Eyes

For a number of years, the Ferris wheel on Mariner’s Landing Pier created quite a spectacle with its ever-changing patterns and colors of bright lights. Now, due to the so-called global warming craze, the lights have been replaced with LED’s. The Morey’s organization thought this would be a brilliant move, but it has turned out to be anything but. For example, the old lights used to catch the attention of travelers coming into both Wildwood and North Wildwood. Now, a bit of haze makes them virtually invisible. The new light substitutes are static, never changing their patterns or colors. Those in charge have actually progressed to the 1950s.

Other brilliant plans are in the works. One bright idea is to improve Pacific Avenue by crisscrossing the street with LED’s. One can only guess how easy it must be to sell the concept of LED’s to dim-witted officials. We could save much more energy by limiting the speed limits on highways to five mph, an idea that would get us everywhere slow, but nowhere fast. The question is, to what extent do we inconvenience ourselves, or make life less enjoyable, because of the global warming scam? The Morey’s corporation will see considerable savings in electricity bills, and that’s fine, but they should stop hiding behind the “greenness” aspect. Like nearly everything, it’s a “money” thing first, no matter what anyone tells us.

The city could also save a bunch by replacing all street lights with candles, and. . . oh, never mind.

Once again, the Christmas in July boat parade was a success, at least for someone, I suppose. The handful of boats cruised by our place during daylight hours, just as last year, but a half hour later. This got residents and observers thinking that, in just a couple of years or so, the event may take place after sundown. At least the entrants have started using decorations that are more visually appealing during daylight hours, but nothing really replaces the effect of bright lights at night. Organizers say each year that they want to compete with OC. That will only happen if Ocean City renames their parade, “DAY in Venice.”

Well, a judge finally decided that the recall of the Wildwood mayor and a commissioner can go forward, I guess in the opposite direction as the city itself. The recall election is slated for December 8, hopefully, this year.

In the meantime, the targets of the recall once again said it would be smart (or something like that), for all four communities that comprise The Wildwoods to pool services. Right, it would be smart for Wildwood, but most of us here in the adjoining communities have no interest in sharing Wildwood’s much higher tax rates to sustain its various follies.

A family of ospreys, AKA fish hawks, spruced up its nest in the marshes just off Route 147 by adding some greenery. They must be taking good care of the new shrubbery, because it has remained green for several weeks now.

The Atlantic City and Wildwood boardwalks were voted Nos. 1 and 2 by ForbesTraveler.com. Fortunately for Wildwood, Forbes Traveler excluded regular streets in reaching its conclusions. If you go there (not to the Wildwood boardwalk, but the other site), don’t forget to come back.

I’ve noticed an increase in August visitors to the island, which can only be attributed to man-made global advertising, thus explaining the numerous license tags from Quebec.

Speaking of which, or maybe not, what were these people thinking, a number of years ago, when they started renting those surreys that people pedal? Like cars and bikes weren’t complicated enough? I used to think that nothing could slow down island traffic more than automobiles, but eight people trying to pedal and steer a surrey, with or without a fringe on top, surpasses NJ MVA allowable levels of insanity with respect to traffic. The funny thing that’s not so funny is that the passengers in these death traps think there’s nothing funnier. Sort of like the idiots that go on bumper cars who can’t seem to figure out what “turn the wheel” means, so they just sit there laughing, eating up ride time, while no one else can go anywhere. It’s a riot. . .

Labor Day lurks just around the corner, and we all know what that means. It means dreading going back to school, except for the weirdoes who love school. Oh, that’s right, I got out of school many years ago, but I still dread going back, not that I ever intend to. If that makes no sense to you, then you’re one of the weirdoes. L8R.

The laughing gulls find the concept of man-made global warming laughable, given that the local daily temperature has rarely risen above the mid sixties since the gulls’ arrival in early April. On the other hand, laughing gulls find almost everything pretty much laughable. What never seems to amuse them, though, are the early summer flood tides. The parents fly around frantically, watching their nests float away, while their offspring paddle around rather calmly.

We’re approaching the end of June now, and the marshes are just beginning to reach full greenness. Weekend crowds here on the island can hardly be considered crowds, although most of the remaining motels seem to be booked to capacity on weekends. The somewhat sparse crowds can probably be attributed to the unusually cool and rainy spring we’ve experienced. Normal people don’t really like spending too much time in the motel rooms they rent at the shore.

Good news happens at times, and it’s good to see that Wildwood decided to repaint the giant beach balls at the end of Rio Grande Avenue. They’re not quite as shiny as the originals, but they look better than when they were covered with large splotches of white, as if they were suffering from vitiligo.

In other good news, it looks as if most of the scheduled paving has been completed in the Wildwoods, including Seaview Avenue in the Crest, and Surf Avenue in North Wildwood. The new parking along the center islands on Surf has the potential of causing many accidents because of blocked views.

In some ways, I hate to see some streets repaved. Many of the main thoroughfares on the island sport the same pavement we rode our bikes on over fifty years ago. Many are still in good shape, such as parts of Atlantic Avenue in the Crest. Very nostalgic, I suppose.

Wildwood city planners now talk about finishing off Pacific Avenue, and they envision streets adorned with LED lighting. Where do they get these ideas? Many streets, including some main thoroughfares, in Wildwood desperately need repaving, and all planners can think about is adding LED lighting? That’s the downside of state grant money.

Admittedly, Rio Grande Avenue looks much better than it did, but after that, then what? Ocean Avenue looks good, but does anyone care about all the other bumpy and unsightly streets, other than those who have to drive them?

A number of eyesores exist on the island, particularly at Rio Grande and Ocean Avenues, where the Rio Motel once stood. Apparently, unless or until the present mayor gets his high-rise hotels, visitors will be punished with this unsightly vacant lot, surrounded by a chain-link fence, right across from the proud giant beach balls and the Wildwood sign. You’d think they could at least landscape the lot, for all the money they paid to not build something. The Cedar/Schellenger area near Atlantic Avenue also needs a makeover, and who would complain if someone accidentally bulldozed down Schellenger’s Landing? Just kidding about the last. . . I think.

The island has changed over the years, and I guess it’s difficult for those of us who grew up here to not remember what it used to be like. While it’s true that demographics have shifted with changing times, it’s not true that vacant areas left by the removal of structures should be left to resemble urban blight. Many of the visitors will probably remember the town as a place where a lot of construction appears to be ongoing, with nothing actually being built. Most communities require strict property maintenance requirements after a structure has been removed.

The Wildwoods are still a great place for family vacations, but wouldn’t it be better if parts of the town sported a better appearance to visitors?

In its ongoing infinite management wisdom, the Delaware River & Bay Authority (DRBA), announced a planned rate hike for the Cape May/Lewes ferry service. A spokesman said they also plan on reducing the number of trips. The reason, he said, was due to decreased ridership, which resulted in decreased revenue. Duh! Oh yeah, and they also intend to add a fuel surcharge if the price of diesel fuel exceeds $2.50 per gallon.

Okay, here we go again, in an attempt to explain why the ferry service has never made a profit since its inception. The time to increase prices for anything is when demand is UP, not down. There are reasons why fewer people are using the ferry, and none of them is because prices are too low. I have also never heard anyone mention that there are too many trips scheduled, that it runs too late in the day, or that it makes the trip across the bay in less time than desired.

Back when the service started, they used ferries that had been replaced by the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, and they worked fine, although they were a bit too deep-drafted for Delaware Bay. Some years later, they had new boats built, but none of them were designed for any significant speed. The thinking, apparently, was that these were not bridge substitutes, but mini ocean liners, or something like that.

Now let’s look at reality as seen by truckers, businesspersons, and families returning from trips. Coming from the south on I-95 to a location in Cape May County requires driving all the way to the Delaware Memorial Bridge (which makes a profit and subsidizes the ferry), then back down. This adds many miles to a trip, and can add some time, depending on the ferry schedule. If nothing else, it’s more tiresome.

Let’s now look at the ferry, instead. Assuming you’re traveling between August 31 and July 3, the last boat leaves for Cape May at 7:45, except for weekends in June, when an 8:45 trip is added. If you haven’t timed your trip exactly right, or get tied up in traffic, you get there at, say, 8:00. Your options are to either wait until the first trip in the morning, at 9:30, or drive all the way back to, probably I-13, and head for the bridge. Weekends during July and August have a last trip scheduled for 9:30.

We sometimes go to Georgia, and making it to Lewes before 7:45 is nothing less than a frantic drive, holding our breaths that we don’t get caught up in traffic. A reservation sounds like a good idea, but it’s only good if you make it there 30 minutes before the departure time. None of this makes any sense for late-night travelers and truckers.

The first step in making the Cape May/Lewes Ferry a viable means of transportation would be to schedule trips at every two hours, as a minimum, night and day, or at least scheduling the last trip for midnight. Yes, some trips would probably run at a loss, at least initially, but the important thing is to establish ridership by gaining the trust of potential riders. Just imagine closing the Delaware Memorial Bridge at 7:45 each evening, and you can see why the DRBA is way off in its thinking concerning the ferry. Availability eliminates the decision-making process of whether or not to get off the interstate and attempt to make it in time for the last crossing.

Of course, the speed of the vessels is another issue. The advertised crossing time is 70 minutes, but a minimum of 90 minutes is closer to reality. With the amount of money spent on the existing boats, especially the two “mother” ships, faster vessels, perhaps hydroplanes, could have been built. Faster crossings mean more desirability to travelers, and more trips filled to capacity. That’s not to say that an hour and a half to rest up during a long trip isn’t sometimes welcomed, only that the primary purpose of the ferry should be to get vehicles from one location to another, so speed should be of the essence.

That’s not to say that the ferry should be as fast as a car traveling across a bridge, only that a trip of more than an hour one way tends to discourage travelers from using the service. If the idea was to make more money on food, or in the gift shop, neither concept ever happened, and never will. It’s not only the fares that are priced immodestly. As to the food, the health department shut down all real cooking, so only packaged products are offered. Not really what you expect when on a “sea cruise.”

I predict that ridership will drop even more after the fare hikes, and the DRBA members will stand around scratching their heads, wondering why every other ferry service in the world operates profitably. The answer, of course, is that most ferries are not optional, and provide the only means of reaching a destination. When that is not the case, steps must be taken to make the service an attractive and viable alternative to driving.

A few things are changing on the Wildwood boardwalk for the 2009 season. For example, visitors will no longer have to worry about falling through the aging planks, at least for an entire block or so. Originally, the replacement material was designated as black locust, a domestic wood, but the first shipment was judged to be of inferior quality. The municipality’s officials decided to go with ipe (they tell me it rhymes with the auction site), a tropical hardwood.

This immediately brought a group of people who have probably never actually seen a rainforest out of their winter hideaways, protesting the destruction of the rainforests, and the evils of supporting the destruction by buying tropical hardwoods. Okay, let’s analyze this situation. First of all, this wood has already been harvested and milled, so any destruction already took place. Buying this wood contributes nothing to rainforest decimation. If boards are planted, they become pilings, not trees.

If you’re really concerned about the rainforests going away, then hop on a plane and head for South America. The locals will welcome your protests and may even have you for dinner.

Morey’s Corporation held a ceremony to ease its guilt for not making good on its promises to restore and reopen The Golden Nugget mine ride. The Moreys said it would have cost too much, and they understand what it meant to the people, but it just wasn’t feasible, blah, blah, woof, woof. . . More than likely, what they really meant to say was that the ride, first opened in 1960, was a bit too tacky for their tastes. A bit haughty, considering that they got their start by dragging a very tacky used slide back from Florida, proving that sometimes, one person’s tacky is another’s joy. They unveiled plans and a model of a new coaster that would be built on two piers, supposedly making the transit from one pier to the other across the beach, then under the other pier. If ever built, it will be sure to draw the crowds, but not everyone seeks the ultimate thrill ride. Some find more comfort in rides that are unique and entertaining for the entire family, such as The Golden Nugget. They sold the ride to Knoebels Amusement Resort in Elysburg, Pennsylvania, although it’s not clear what they actually sold. Supposedly, the track and some cars, so they say. The new “owners” plan on reinventing the ride, and may well opt for a coal mining theme. The Black Nugget?

In other news, the Wildwoods Boardwalk Special Improvement District, which operates the tram cars, announced that the one-way fare will increase from $2.00 to $2.25. This certainly makes sense, considering the current state of the economy. They’re calling it a “modest increase,” for the care and maintenance of the trams. Sound business sense never really ran rampant in the Wildwoods, and it doesn’t seem to be multiplying at any alarming rates. Increasing the fare brings more money per passenger, but not necessarily more revenue. The extra quarter means a dollar for a family of four, possibly enough to encourage them to put some more mileage on their flip-flops. The two-dollar fare is easier on attendants, and doesn’t require them to carry and handle a lot of coins. But what do I know? I’m only an individual who won’t pay the price.

They’re also going to run a daily all-you-can-ride special, from 11:00 a.m. till 5:00 p.m., for five dollars. How many times one person, other than the tram driver, would want to ride up and down the boardwalk, especially during the afternoon, is questionable. One round trip using the unlimited ride option would cost more than the regular fare. This plan also was obviously well thought out.

Of course, these are not the only three things that will change your Wildwood boardwalk experience this year. There’s always the possibility another giant beach ball could pop up somewhere. . .

For loyal visitors to my site who wonder where I’ve been for the past couple of months, the answer is that I’ve been mostly in and sometimes out of two hospitals.

In November I had a heart attack. I always thought that having a heart attack meant falling on the floor and having someone administer CPR. Sometimes that’s the case, but often it simply means they analyze your enzyme output, rub their chins, and declare that you either had or did not have a heart attack. It’s all Greek to me.

In my case, I had shortness of breath that got so severe we called 911. It seemed pretty traumatic to me, but definitely didn’t fit my vision of a heart attack.

Anyway, the local hospital sent me to Penn-Presbyterian in Philadelphia, for a heart cath, which showed 100% blockage in two arteries, but the even bigger problem was my mitral valve, which was not closing properly. After six days, they released me, and my intention was to have surgery on January 20.

By mid-December I started experiencing congestive heart failure, and checked in at Penn again on the 16th. I guess I had a pulmonary edema, whatever that is, and they put me into a coma for three days. They brought me out of it on the 19th, still on the ventilator that pretty much saved my life, but I don’t recommend it for any other purpose.

With this change in plans, they decided to perform the surgery on December 23. It involved repairing the mitral valve and doing a double bypass.

Since that time, I spent another week in the local hospital due to some complications, but I’m now on my way back. I hope to be writing regularly in the near future.

Just when you think the federal government people who work for us are doing a fine job, they come up with even more ways to drive up food prices. Increasing corn output for inefficient and expensive ethanol didn’t quite do it for them. Now they think the north forty just may be too farty.

The EPA has proposed requiring dairy cows, beef cattle, and hogs to pay a tax for belching and emitting flatulence. It’s not clear as to how the livestock will come up with the money, or who will measure the output. I can think of a number of elected officials well-suited for the task.

On a more serious note, farms with more than 25 dairy cows, 50 beef cattle, or 200 hogs would pay an annual fee of about $175 for each dairy cow, $87.50 for each beef steer, and $20 per hog. Apparently sheep and other farm animals get a free ride, so we’ll probably see a lot of mooing, snorting, and oinking, as the others try to make the claim that it wasn’t them, looking around innocently.

Farmers are turning desperately to industry to develop catalytic converters for their livestock, to avoid paying the emissions tax, but it’s possible that the new equipment could cost far more than just paying the fees. Executives for Bean-O expressed concerns that they may have to open more plants to meet the anticipated increase in demand for their product.

A spokesman for one group of farmers stated that it would cost the owners of a modest-sized cattle ranch about $30,000 to $40,000 a year, and would probably bankrupt them. Another farmer said he thought that those people running the EPA were nothing but a bunch of old farts, so why weren’t they taxing themselves?

Other beef ranchers suggested that this was nothing more than an ongoing effort initiated by the cows themselves. “They’ve been carrying those Eat mor chikin signs around for a number of years now, and it’s mighty suspicious that the chickens are conveniently exempt from these taxes. It looks as if their campaign is finally starting to gain some ground in Washington. You’d think they’d learn how to spell, though!”

An outspoken agricultural commissioner for one southern state feared that the tax could lead to an increase in Americans consuming meat from foreign countries, which have considerably lower health standards than the U.S. “We can’t even stop the illegal aliens from coming into this country,” he said, “and now we have to worry about cows and pigs sneaking across the border? Then they’ll probably give them an exemption from the flatulence tax! Anchor calves are just what this country needs at this time!”

A spokesman for PETA (People Eating Tasty Animals) stated that the proposal makes perfect sense. “I’m tired of people acting like that Japanese Kobe steak is so hoity-toity! I think our steaks are just as good, and the consumers should pay just as much for home-grown beef. The Japanese ranchers don’t have any fancy scrubbers on their barns, and they still charge above-market prices for their product.” When asked if he was willing to feed the cows rice beer and perform daily massages on the animals, as they do in Japan, he said, “They do that?”

It’s not certain how seriously the EPA considers this proposal, but for an agency that still promotes the concept of man-made global warming, or climate change, or whatever the catch phrase of the day happens to be, anything is possible. Personally, I think the whole idea stinks to high Heaven!

Most of us will breathe sighs of relief if wildlife biologist Allan Mueller rediscovers what he thinks was the ivory-billed woodpecker, which he thinks he saw last year. He and a team of 26 volunteers, plus three expert field biologists, start their search this Saturday and will slosh through the Arkansas swamps until about March or April.

By now I’m sure many of you are saying, “Wow, that’s a long time to spend in the swamps, looking for a bird that may not exist!” Relax. They intend to split into five teams, and one team member will search once a month, for about six hours. They’ll be armed with a wooden contraption called a double knocker, to replicate the sound of the bird, as well as a CD player to broadcast the distinctive call. My only question is, if the bird was thought to be extinct, how does anyone know what it sounds like? Apparently, no recordings of the bird’s call exist. It’s possible they recorded the call from an old Woody Woodpecker cartoon, but that hasn’t been confirmed, nor has it been confirmed that Woody was an ivory-billed specimen.

When the bird supposedly became extinct, piano manufacturers had to resort to. . . Wait, my research assistant just informed me that the bill isn’t made of ivory; it only has the appearance of ivory. Never mind, I was thinking of elephants, but either way, you should harbor no feelings of guilt if you recently bought a piano.

In case you think all of this is simply a waste of time, consider the fact that an anonymous donor has pledged $50,000 to anyone who leads the team to a live specimen. It’s not too hard to figure out why this person prefers to remain anonymous.

I suppose you’re thinking that finding this woodpecker will greatly improve your life, which, up until this time, has been fairly empty. Maybe, maybe not. I’ve seen red-bellied woodpeckers and pileated woodpeckers, all in my ex-backyard, and none of them affected my health or wealth, other than eating some bird seed from my feeder. I found one pecking on my house one day, and I scared it away. Woodpeckers often peck holes in the wood on houses, sometimes searching for insects, sometimes making holes for acorn storage, and, in rare cases, making nests. It should be readily apparent to anyone with an ounce of sense why these birds are so heavily protected by regulations.

So what can we expect if these wildlife biologists actually find an ivory-billed woodpecker? More environmental regulation, I suppose. You can pretty much forget that vacation swamp home you were considering building. The government will take your swamp lot by eminent domain and give a quit claim deed to a needy woodpecker. That won’t be enough, however. As their populations increase, they’ll demand more and more land. Even the Jersey Shore resorts won’t escape the influx, as they make nests in the plastic palm trees at the doo-wop motels, also on the endangered species list.

Speaking of which, the Doo-wop Preservation League has done an outstanding job in that only 100 or so doo-wop motels have disappeared from the Wildwoods since the league’s formation. Maybe they should borrow a page or two from the environmentalists.

Many people think that environmentalists are super smart, otherwise, why would they have the term mentalist in their names? Well, they’re not really environ mentalists, they’re environment people. I’m not saying that all environmentalists are stupid, but you won’t hear me making the case that some are not. They’re presently holding up expansion of a landfill in Cape May County because someone spotted a red-headed woodpecker which claimed to have property rights in a tree. When asked to move to a tree further down the forest, the woodpecker stated that if it was so great there, why not just move the landfill to that location?

It also seemed totally sane to me when a subdivision in Ocean County had to provide a fenced area for some type of rattlesnake, as if it couldn’t just slither off to some other woody area. Of course, this was the only place suitable for that particular type of snake, and why would anyone of sound mind be opposed to rattlesnakes living in the area? The ACLU got involved, claiming discrimination against poisonous reptiles.

Way back in my youth, I used to romp through the woods, sometimes unarmed, and sometimes with the added security of my aunt’s BB gun. I never worried about bears or coyotes, but both have made a resurgence in NJ since they were reintroduced to the area by caring environmentalists. Some people claim to have seen mountain lions, also.

So it’s easy to see that we desperately need more environmentalists. Already they have succeeded in renaming man-made global warming to climate change, and we now look forward to the coming man-made ice age, as predicted back in the 70’s. This is good news for the polar bears, who just missed making the endangered species list, settling for threatened. Next time you meet up with a polar bear, let me know how threatened it feels.

I hope that Santa Claus ignored the advice of last summer’s global warming alarmists (GLOWARMS), and kept his sleigh, rather than trading it in for a jet ski. Remember, they told us to book vacations at the North Pole, because we were making too much CO2, which was turning the Arctic into a tropical paradise. They told us that polar bears could never survive without their needed ice, although I’m not sure exactly why polar bears need ice for survival.

Yes, they like ice, because it makes it easier for them to hunt seals, but these white, furry, creatures also spend much time on land. They also know how to swim, and have been spotted more than 100 miles from land or ice, and that’s not counting the ones living at the San Diego Zoo. There’s a reason that the genus and species of polar bears is Ursus Maritimus, meaning sea bear, in Latin. They are the only bears classified as marine mammals.

Rather than go on and on about the normal range of polar bears and their adaptability to changing polar conditions, suffice it to say that polar bears are increasing in population, sort of like how the Arctic ice is increasing in thickness and area.

Unfortunately, a bunch of narwhal whales heeded the advice of Owl Gore and other deranged GLOWARMS, and set out on their annual migration near Baffin Island, the largest island in Canada, not far from Pond Inlet. After all, didn’t NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies just announce that October was the hottest on record, before qualifying it by saying, that is, if you use September’s temperatures instead of October’s? Yes, it did, sort of like when Goddard’s Dr. James E. Hansen announced that the 1990s was the hottest decade of the twentieth century, before someone reminded him that it was actually the 1930s that earned the distinction. The institute also announced that August of this year saw the largest sea ice retreat on record, and the narwhal whales, avid readers of fiction, decided to go with that information.

Apparently, the sea ice regathered its forces and staged a new assault, trapping about 200 of the whales in the ice, much to the delight of hunters from nearby Pond Inlet. Normally permitted to kill only 100 whales per year, per the Canadian department of Fisheries and Oceans, a spokesperson said that the whales were probably going to die anyway, so permission to cull (a euphemism for kill, I suppose) the entire 200 was granted.

Once again, who do we believe? NASA now officially admits that many scientists have different views on climate change, and also acknowledges that water vapor, not CO2, is the most significant greenhouse gas, something others have been preaching to the choir of skeptics for some time now. The other parishioners hear the sermon, but miss the message, and now insist that the CO2 is causing the water vapor. Whatever. . .

My daughter makes no claims to being a climatologist, but she says it’s cold down there in South Carolina, just across the river from Augusta, Georgia. I tend to agree with her, because it’s 26 degrees down there, four degrees colder than here in New Jersey.

As children, we always hoped for a White Christmas, perhaps just to make it a bit homier for Santa and his reindeer, but who’da thunk our Thanksgiving turkey just might turn out to be a snow bird?

As most people know by now, the Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series. In typical Philadelphia sophomoric fashion, fans celebrated by destroying property. It’s hard to imagine what would have happened had the Phillies lost the Series.

Philadelphia fans are noted for being rude and immature. During the last game, fans booed the Tampa Bay Rays players, and booed the pitcher every time he attempted to pick off a runner at first base. This depicts not sportsmanship, but immaturity and lack of culture. Based on previous history with Philly sports fans, I predicted flaming cars in the event of a victory – or a loss.

The flaming cars appeared on schedule, but the damage far exceeded that mark. Fans overturned the huge ceramic planters along Broad Street and threw them into the street. Rioters smashed shop windows and looted stores. They tore down traffic lights and street signs, much in the same manner of goal posts after a football game. Fans even destroyed trees. Many people were hurt by flying bottles, and one man described being hit over the head with a bottle, and then a glass. Someone, not content with simply stealing the rear wheel of a bicycle locked to a pole, decided to destroy the rest of the bike also.

None of this happened in secrecy, because hundreds of thousands of people were in the streets. Apparently the mob mentality sanctioned these events. In another day and age, the perpetrators would have been not only deterred by others, but made to pay a price for their actions.



For most people, celebration brings to mind a happy event, a time for good will and elation. It’s hard to imagine how or why making life miserable for innocent people, as well as causing physical harm to some, fits into that category.

Reports say that much of the damage was caused by college students, and they mentioned Drexel and Temple. I’m a Drexel grad, and the curriculum must have changed considerably since I attended. College-age students always enjoy a good prank, but there’s not much funny about committing felony mischief.

I never understood vandalism on any level. What mentality (or lack thereof) motivates individuals to destroy the property of others? Why do some people think they have the right to take what doesn’t belong to them? The blame for lack of achievement rests solely on the underachiever, not on others.

Two weeks ago I celebrated my birthday. My wife made me a pineapple upside-down cake and gave me a few shirts. For some strange reason I never considered breaking out my neighbors’ windows, or starting a fire in the street. Am I missing something here?

They’re planning a parade along Market and Broad Streets today. That’s great for the team members, who accomplished something special, but I’m not sure the fans deserve it. Maybe it’s a good thing that championships for Philadelphia sports teams come few and far between.

As a kid, and even up until the time I got my driver’s license, I rode a bike just about every day. Biking seemed rather simple back then – I just got on my bike and rode it. Nowadays it doesn’t work that way for me. Some people seem to have it figured out, and I envy those carefree people.

Riding my bike, or as they call it, cycling, requires preparation. I own cycling shorts, with padding, but rarely wear them. Someone forgot to include a zipper in the front, which makes things rather awkward. I never considered that a problem with a bathing suit, because whenever I wore a bathing suit it was for the express purpose of entering a rather large body of water. I preferred oceans and bays over swimming pools because of the higher, and relatively unnoticeable, dilution factor.

I probably more closely fit the mold of a bike rider rather than a “cycler,” because I never obsess with proper attire. Whatever I happen to be wearing seems about right to me. Hydration used to mean riding to the store and buying an RC, one of the first 16-ounce sodas. Now it involves preparing a water bottle, usually filled with one of the sports drinks, never with anything carbonated, or with anything considered a diuretic. I do wear one of those silly-looking helmets, because I prefer a silly-looking helmet to a grotesque-looking head.

Back in the day, I pumped up my tires every couple of months or so, maybe more often if the rims appeared to be approaching the pavement. Now it’s once a week, need it or not. It’s much easier to pedal when the tires are kept at 60 psi, and at my age and weight, that’s important.




The next step in getting on the road is figuring out where the heck the bike is. In theory it should be hanging on the rack in the garage, but more likely than not, I’ll find it in the back of my SUV. I mounted one of those fork supports on a 2X6, which works pretty well, except it involves taking off the front wheel and removing the seat. Most of the time I just throw the whole bike in on its side. It’s not like it’s a big problem taking off the wheel and the seat (or as they like to call it, saddle), but they are extra steps. I replaced the original seat, which seemed to be made from heat-tempered rhino horn, with a gel saddle. Both were apparently designed by a proctologist. I also invested in a seat post with a shock absorber, which cuts way down on proctologist visits.

Before we get on the road, let me explain why I own a mountain bike, instead of what they call a “comfort bike.” When I bought the bike, the main riding trail was unpaved, so I figured I needed a mountain bike, even though the closest mountain was about 150 miles away. After relocating to an area with hard riding surfaces, I discovered that a mountain bike was not the bike of choice. Actually, I already knew that little fact, but didn’t know that I would be relocating, but that’s a story for another day.

Even so, my bike came with a chrome-molybdenum frame and no shocks, not even in the seat post. The following year, the same model included front shocks, a shock in the seat post, and an aluminum frame, all for the same price I paid. I asked about trading it in, and learned that bikes aren’t like cars.




Al gore wants everyone to ride bikes while he jets around the country to a limousine-in-waiting. This always sounds good, until someone attempts to put it in practice. Bikes were never designed for rain, as I discovered when a sudden storm came up while I was riding a dirt trail. Mountain bikes also lack fenders, so when I reached my vehicle, I looked like the Abominable Mud Man. If you’re one of those “green” people who thinks you’re saving the planet by riding your bike to work, pray that the weather in the morning is the same in the afternoon. Many older people can barely manage walking, and we expect them to ride bicycles?

During a thunderstorm, the metal frame of a bike screams, “Strike me!” For anyone still believing the myth that rubber tires on a car protect you from lightning, I suggest sitting out in an open field during a thunderstorm in a convertible, even with the top up. Better yet, stand out there on a tire. The mass of metal in a vehicle, including the metal roof, allows the lightning to safely seek the ground without including you in the process. It will still probably blow out everything electric.

A car is also considerably less likely to be stolen when you have to park it somewhere. Most cars these days have a remote lock, and it’s a matter of pushing the button. Even without that, it’s a rather simple process locking a vehicle. Not so with bicycles. Most locks can be defeated in a matter of seconds. The better locks offer more security, but the process involves removing the front wheel, and locking the frame, both wheels, and the seat, to something secure. As of 2008, no one has figured out a better method.

Then there’s the little problem of figuring out how to ride home with something you bought at the store. They make baskets and saddlebags, none of which help you get a TV, or even several bags of groceries, safely back to your abode.

All of this is bad enough, even if you live in a city or town where everything you need is available from local stores. Such is not the case in most areas. They usually build shopping malls in areas somewhat removed from urban areas, and biking to a shopping mall and back could take hours, and the problem remains with respect to getting things home. And I haven’t even mentioned the wind and hill problems.

Yes, I think biking is great! It’s great for kids, and for anyone who enjoys sightseeing and just getting exercise. And it’s great for Al Gore, too. Maybe he should consider actually buying one.