Dave Alpert: I Know Where You’re Going with That

I rarely speed.  It’s not that I’m particularly law abiding or that I’m intentionally conserving fossil fuels.  It’s partially that  I know the extra 10 mph won’t make much of a difference in my drive time.  But, mostly, it’s that as a freelance writer, I am constantly broke.  So, I can’t afford a moving violation (or even a parking ticket for that matter).  Now, because I do drive the speed limit, I am keenly aware of all the super agressive driving around me.  At times, I’m even the victim of that agression.  So, I wasn’t surprised when a guy came whipping up behind me in the slow lane on Soldier’s Field Road, made an aggressive move to get around me, shot me a dirty look and then sped far ahead.  However, I was a little surprised and particularly amused that the guy was driving a Toyota Prius.

It would seem to me that the main reason people buy hybrid cars is for the better gas mileage.  The reasons people want better gas mileage is to reduce their “carbon footprint” and cut costs.  Many of my composting, recycling, solar panel owning, MASSPIRG volunteering friends drive them.  Anyway, it got me thinking about whether an aggressive hybrid driver is more damaging to the environment than a non-aggressive driver of a regular car–thus my amusement.

 VS
Ford Focus                                                                  Toyota Prius

After researching a little bit, I was delighted to find this Edmunds article discussing fuel efficiency.  According to their test results, non-aggressive drivers save 31% on milieage on average; non-speeders save an additional 12%.  So, the Prius guy that slammed on his brakes, whipped around me and then stepped on the gas again potentially burns over 40% more fuel while only saving about 20% due to the environment friendliness of his car.  Thus, the guy may still burn 20% more fuel than a guy with a regular old Ford Focus or something. 

The author of the article even mentions hybrids in discussing the results:

Our tests showed that the most significant way to save gas is: you. And we’re talking massive fuel economy gains. Think you need a hybrid? Chances are you’ve got hybrid-style mileage in your gas pedal foot.

Attention Mr. Fancypants Prius driver: Greenpeace wants their membership card back!

Earlier today, I caught the Phantom Gourmet barreling towards Boston on Soldier’s Field Road.  At least, I hope he wasn’t going to review the IHOP.  That would have been a waste of time, as my April 2006 review is considered the definitive compendium on the subject.

While I digress, allow me to diverge from the story a bit further.  I admit it: I enjoyed Adam Sandler’s You Don’t Mess with the Zohan.  My roommate Chris and I quote the movie all the time.  So, of course when I saw the car, I started humming the cheesy music from the movie and saying, “It’s the Phantom,” in a bad Israeli accent.  For those of you who didn’t see the movie, Zohan’s Palestinian enemy in the movie was “The Phantom” played by John Turtorro.

I  wonder how the Phantom Gourmet would rate Zohan’s favorite Middle Eastern drink, Fizzly Bubblich?  Also, strangely related, in the movie, the Phantom quits being a terrorist and opens a chain of Muchentuchen restaurants. What would the Phantom Gourmet say about his Shwarama?

In any event, if the Phantom Gourmet sees this post, I was wondering if I could borrow the car for a day.  I figure that if I roll up on any valet stand in the city with the phantom-mobile, I could eat pretty well–and for free.  I’d be happy to write reviews, too.  Actually no one would know the difference.  According to the Phantom Gourmet Website:

Boston’s #1 restaurant critic has kept his identity secret since 1993. Known for his purple cape and mask, the P.G. laughs in the smug faces of other critics who ignore restaurants with great food and value, while worshipping celebrity chefs.

You never know.  I may BE the Phantom Gourmet. I’ve been known to laugh in smug faces.  What if I just put a production assistant in that car to throw you all off the scent?  C’mon!  Would the real Phantom Gourmet really drive up in that gaudy car????  Hmmm….. Then again, you really never know!

As I was driving home today, I began pondering Boston’s many “douche lanes”.  These are traffic lanes that either by design or by fate become populated by douchebags.  Sometimes the lane creates the douchebag; sometimes it is the douchebag that gives the lane its bad name.

For example, at the end of Storrow Drive–where it forks into Soldier’s Field Road and the bridge over to Fresh Pond Parkway–the far right lane that heads down Soldier’s Field Road is a douche lane.  The left lane maps to the left lane on SFR and the middle lane to the right lane of SFR.  The douchebags that go into the far right lane are only there to practice douchecraft.  In other words, they are taking a legal opportunity to bypass all the people waiting at the light, only to merge (read: cut off) the people in the middle lane once they cross to the other side.  So, is this lane creating douchebags?  Or do only douchebags use that lane?  See exhibit A below.

Then, of course, there is the fork where Brighton Ave and North Beacon St split.  There are 2 left turn only lanes and one lane that goes straight down North Beacon.  The douche lane here is the middle lane.  This is where the douchebags see all the people waiting patiently to get across that annoying intersection and find themselves “accidentally” in the middle lane, so they can bypass fellow drivers and then merge (read: cut off) cars to go down North Beacon.

I wrote about another interesting douche lane previously.  It is the CLEARLY MARKED middle lane in Porter Sq in Cambrige that allows cars to go straight or turn left.  What makes this one so interesting is that the douchebags are the people that find themselves in the middle lane and one or more cars is patiently (and legally) waiting to turn left.  The straight arrow turns green first, while the left turn arrow is still red.  Instead of realizing that they fucked up and made a poor lane choice, these douchebags let road rage overtake them and start leaning on their horns like a bunch of maniacs–and sometimes even drive around, stop and start swearing at the drivers in the cars waiting for the arrow to turn green.  See exhibit B  and C below.

Actually, an even funnier part about the sign in the second picture is that while it clearly explains the middle lane, it incorrectly shows a right turn only lane.  The only turn to the right is the stairwell down to the commuter rail; there is no street.  It should be a straight only lane.

So, what are your favorite douche lanes in the city?

Dear Mayor Menino,

I am writing today to ask for a pardon.  Actually, I am asking on behalf of my car.  You see, my car was unaware that 2-hour parking involved moving to another street after the allotted time and mistakenly relocated itself to a vacant space not only many spaces away but on the opposite side of the street.  Your diligent parking enforcement officer dealt out Boston parking justice with the swift and cruel hand that we residents have come to fear (and loathe).  I sent in a written appeal but your henchmen were unwilling to dismiss the ticket.

So, now I am putting this on your shoulders.  You see, the car I am driving has over 300,000 miles on it and is on its last legs.  Do you want it to live out the rest of its days with a bounty on its head?  It is currently unemployed and unable to pay the fine.  What do you say, Mayor?  Have a heart.  Let the vehicle die with some semblance of dignity!

 Thank you for your time.

Best,
Dave Alpert

PS: Can you tell me where in the city’s traffic rules and regulations it says you have to move the vehicle to another block?  I can’t seem to find it.

In the past 3 years, I’ve written numerous posts about parking in Boston.  In this one, I reminisced about the sweatshirt my mom once gave me that had a huge orange ticket across it with the line: “Boston: a great place to visit… but I wouldn’t want to park there.”  Having lived within the city limits for 10 years, I have to say that our fair city does, in fact, live up to its sweatshirt slogans. 

Yesterday, I parked on Hereford St at a 2-hour meter–not a new multi-space meter, mind you, but the old-fashioned “feed the meter” meter.

I filled the meter to the brim and headed down the street to my destination.  With ten minutes to spare, I returned to my car to move it to a different space.  Because it was later in the afternoon, there were plenty of spaces, both on the same street and adjacent streets.  I moved it to a space further down the street.  After such a collosal effort, I was shocked to find that an hour and a half later, I received a ticket for “over the meter limit” anyway.

I quickly found a BTD employee and asked why I received a ticket.  I was told that it is not enough to move to a different meter; you are actually prohibited from parking on THAT BLOCK!  All I could think of what that scene in Animal House in which Dean Wormer says, “There is a little-known codicil in the Faber constitution….”  I know that “ignorance to the law is no excuse” but I can’t even find where it says that.  I did look through some relevant parts of Boston Traffic Rules and Regulations, but I still can’t find where it says, “move to another block.”

In addition, the modern day meter attendant is armed with technology that allows them to note that my car is on a particular street.  Can’t they also note at which meter I’m parked?

So, here we go again.  Another ticket appeal. More frustration. Another stamp. More wasted time on everyone’s part.  The way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had to pay the ticket.  I’ll keep you posted.  Wish me luck!

A few weeks ago, I was driving through Watertown with my roommate, drummer, and man-about-town–Chris Anzalone.  The car in front of us had a vanity license plate that just said “PASHI”.  So, as we drove, we let our imaginations run wild.  In our heads, Pashi was some sort of anti-Fonzie.  You know.  The Fonz from Happy Days…

While The Fonz was cool, got all the girls, helped his friends out of any situation, Pashi is the exact opposite.  Pashi can’t get laid to save his life, tries to be smooth but comes off as smarmy, and he’s entirely oblivious to the people around him.  “Ayyyy.  It’s Pashi!” I guess in my head, Pashi also kind of looks like Beni, the wimpy thief from the 1999 version of The Mummy.

So, you may be wondering why I’m sharing this tale of 2 juvenile musicians concocting stories about some fictitious character named Pashi.  Well, as opposed to Fonzie, who rode a motorcycle, Pashi drives a station wagon.  And just today, I spied Pashi again–this time turning into the 7-11 in Watertown.

Ay, It’s Pashi!

So, who is this man of mystery?

Am I crazy or have Bostonians gone completely insane?  All day, there’s been this feel in the air–like the end of days is coming and people are getting ready.  People were driving very, very slowly–long before the snow began.  I must have seemed like a lunatic myself, as I constantly found myself screaming “go, go, Go, GO!!!!!” at the top of my lungs.  I think a lot of people who hadn’t taken the Impala out of the garage in a long time hit the roads to get provisions for the impending doom.  Then, all the parking spaces were filled at 11am–and it IS a work day. 

In the supermarket, people were scooping up 5 gallon jugs of water and food that is guaranteed to spoil before they ever have a chance to eat it.  And I waited 15 minutes in the “scan the shit yourself” line.  You may try and point to the fact I got what I deserved for going food shopping on the day of an impending snowstorm.  But, hey, I’m a poor struggling writer/musician and I didn’t even have the funds to buy a pack of AA batteries yesterday.  I played a show last night and did some odd jobs this morning for a friend, and I finally had some money to splurge on some food other than burritos, Hormel chili and Ramen noodles. 

By the way people acted in the store and on the streets, you’d think our civilization was about to come to an end.  People are definitely in survival mode.  If Shaw’s sold shotgun shells, people would have had baskets full of them.  And, I got the last bag of hot dog rolls on the shelf–and they weren’t the cheap ones either!  I guess people figure that when the utility plants screech to a halt, they can build fires in the back yard and roast hot dogs on sticks with their families (as someone stands guard with a shotgun and shells they just bought with their Shaw’s Card).  So, remember, in this season of generosity and kindness: it’s every man for himself.  Good luck!

Despite the rainy weather, I had a fun day on the South Shore with my brother last weekend.  We grew up in Hull, MA, and we spent a good chunk of the day walking around, checking out our childhood house (which my dad is selling) and talking to people around town.  Crossing the border into Hingham, I asked Scott if he’d recently been to World’s End, a park and conservation area on a peninsula in Hingham that is part of the Boston Harbor Islands National Recreation Area.  Since we were about a quarter mile from the turn-off leading to the park, my brother turned and we started heading down there.

It had been ages since I’d been to World’s End–probably since I was in junior high school–and I was pretty excited to check it out.  On the way there, however, my brother suddenly slammed on the breaks.  He then kicked the car into reverse and started driving back about half a block.  Just as I was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, the car came to a screeching halt, and he exclaimed, “Wild turkeys, dude!”  It was true–and there were lots of them.  We spend the next 20 minutes hanging out with the turkeys.  These photos are compliments of my brother, Scott.

 
Lots-O-Turkeys

The Strutting Turkey

Bionic Turkey

Even Turkeys Got to Eat!

Scott and I never made it into the park because the next rain storm came rolling through.  But, hey, we did get to check out some wild turkeys.  My friend Abby later pointed out, “Fowl are just plain mean.”  She was right, too; those tukeys were pretty nasty.  Still, they are damn fascinating to watch.

I saw the sign
And it opened up my eyes
I saw the sign
                    –Jonas Berggren (Ace of Base)

Many streets in the Boston area are poorly marked or unmarked.  This is not one of them:

The sign seems pretty clear to me:

Oddly enough, I’ve still witnessed more cases of road rage at this intersection than any other in Boston or Cambridge.  A car will be waiting for the left turn signal in the middle lane–patiently and according to the letter of the law.  Unfortunately, the straight arrow turns green first.  Inevitably, some Masshole waiting behind him/her will start laying on the horn, gesticulating wildly and swearing their head off.  I recall two cases in which the driver of the first car was actually intimidated into driving straight, effectively missing their turn.

Actually, on second glance, the city fucked up this sign, too.  Ha.  The arrows on the street itself are correct.  But on the sign, the arrow to the right appears to be saying “right turn only”.  However, it should be straight and be saying “straight only”.  There is no street to the right–no place to turn right.  Go figure.  Let the road rage continue!

In Boston, bicyclists and motorists have a very contentious relationship to say the least.  Even though I do own a car, I would characterize myself as a T riding pedestrian.  Nevertheless, I’ve thought about this topic quite a bit, and I’ve come to this conclusion: it’s not that motorists are assholes; it’s not that bicyclists are assholes.  It’s that Americans are assholes.

It’s not our fault really.  From the days of the frontier, the expansion west and Theodore Roosevelt’s “rough individualism”, our society has been built on a culture of unabashed selfishness. 

My interest in this topic was re-awakened by reading this article on Universal Hub which is followed by 2 pages of some of the most acrimonious comments I’ve ever read.  I have to admit; my loyalties lie firmly with the motorists.  You see, while motorists are just assholes, bicyclists are self-rightous assholes.  They walk around with this moral indignation and an air of moral superiority based on the fact that they use less fossil fuels, excercise more and that they have the short end of the stick because city planners don’t always have their interests in mind.

I would argue, however, that even if Boston had the most bicycle friendly streets in the US, it would make no difference.  Bikers ride on pedestrian sidewalks, blow through red lights and stop signs (always), ride down one-way streets the wrong way and sometimes ride against traffic, instead of with it.  Why?  Because they can.  No one stops them.  And if the city caved  to every bicyclist demand, they would still do it.  This brings us back to my point about the wild west.  Bicyclists get off on the thrill of blowing through intersections not knowing whether they are going to live or die.  That’s part of the fun; that’s part of our culture.  It’s not as if, suddenly Boston bikers would start looking like this:

Bicyclists in Amsterdam (Photo credit: AndrewLove.org)

No. Boston bicyclists would continue to be drug-crazed savages sitting in coffee shops wearing torn pants, bloody knees and chipped teeth like badges of honor as they tell stories of the best diggers, car accidents and pedestrian flattenings they were involved in.

One of the comments on the Universal Hub post links to Massachusetts Bicycle Law on the massbike.org site.  They want to arm bicyclists with knowledge in the fight for the streets of the city.  While it makes for an interesting read, the problem is that laws don’t inform as to how you should act; they inform about what you can get away with.  Bicyclists should follow the same rules of the road–even if they don’t have to.  Motorists should be more considerate and share the roads.  Pedestrians should wait for the “walk” light and not prevent motorists from making a left turn when they are at a green arrow lasting for 3 seconds.  Joggers shouldn’t run on the busiest streets in the city, careening into me on my way home from work.  But we’re all too busy getting away with whatever we can.  And this is what makes this country great.  We are all truly equal–even if just by virtue of our collective selfishness.