A while ago, I discussed in this column the joy of traveling on Interstate-84 every day. (I am, of course, using the definition of the word “joy” that means: “root canal level agony.”) I mentioned that, in my view, Audi drivers have surpassed BMW drivers as the most reckless and obnoxious motorists on the road. In that particular paragraph, I wrote this sentence: “Don’t fret Beemer lovers.”
No one took issue with my negative characterization of Audi and BMW drivers (so it must be true). However, I did receive a note explaining that “Beemer” is the incorrect word. The proper nickname for a BMW car is “Bimmer,” while a BMW motorcycle is called a “Beamer,” with an “ea” rather than “ee.” The email writer told me that countless discussions have taken place over many years on high performance car websites and blogs, and now Bimmer and Beamer are the agreed upon proper terms.
When I read this, my first thought was, “Well, I drive a Chevy Equinox, so how am I supposed to know BMW lingo?”
Then, after realizing there’s a multitude of car enthusiasts who spend years having intense online discussions to settle on proper vehicle nicknames, I had a second thought: “Hmm, I don’t feel so bad wasting three-quarters of my brain cells memorizing baseball statistics. Compared to these car guys, I’m making good use of my time.”
In my column about I-84, I wrote this sentence: “Whether it’s Hartford, Waterbury, Danbury, Newburgh, Scranton, or hundreds of towns in between, each of these communities has an east-west gouge through its very heart, altering forever the particular burg’s character and charm.”
I wrote that sentence mostly to fill some space, and partly because I haven’t used the words gouge and burg in a while. Little did I know it would strike a nerve with readers. I received numerous emails, each lamenting how cherished neighborhoods were obliterated to make room for highways.
A friend sent me information about a biography called The Power Broker. The book won a Pulitzer Prize in the mid-1970s, and it chronicles the life of Robert Moses, the driving force behind highway, bridge, and tunnel construction in the metropolitan New York area.
Then, after realizing there’s a multitude of car enthusiasts who spend years having intense online discussions to settle on proper vehicle nicknames, I had a second thought: “Hmm, I don’t feel so bad wasting three-quarters of my brain cells memorizing baseball statistics. Compared to these car guys, I’m making good use of my time.”
In my column about I-84, I wrote this sentence: “Whether it’s Hartford, Waterbury, Danbury, Newburgh, Scranton, or hundreds of towns in between, each of these communities has an east-west gouge through its very heart, altering forever the particular burg’s character and charm.”
I wrote that sentence mostly to fill some space, and partly because I haven’t used the words gouge and burg in a while. Little did I know it would strike a nerve with readers. I received numerous emails, each lamenting how cherished neighborhoods were obliterated to make room for highways.
A friend sent me information about a biography called The Power Broker. The book won a Pulitzer Prize in the mid-1970s, and it chronicles the life of Robert Moses, the driving force behind highway, bridge, and tunnel construction in the metropolitan New York area.
I was going to purchase the book, until I noticed it’s 1200 pages, which is about 900 more pages than I prefer. There are, however, some interesting internet articles about Moses. From the 1930s to the 1960s, he was the most powerful person in the State of New York, despite never having been elected to any office. It seems Mr. Moses was the king of eminent domain, and would not hesitate to bulldoze entire neighborhoods to make room for his grand highway projects.
Personally, I was a toddler when all the Interstate construction in Connecticut took place. Even back in those less-regulated days, toddlers were discouraged from getting drivers licenses, so I have no memory of what things were like before the Interstates were built. Based on the emails I received, a lot of folks had their lives turned upside down as their cherished family neighborhoods became nothing more than memories.
One email writer said, “Mr. Dunn, you obviously don’t like Interstate highways. What do you propose we do instead to meet our transportation needs?”
Um, I have no idea. I didn’t write a column about I-84 to solve major societal problems. I wrote that column to make some goofy comments about Audi and BMW drivers (and to use the words gouge and burg).
Personally, I was a toddler when all the Interstate construction in Connecticut took place. Even back in those less-regulated days, toddlers were discouraged from getting drivers licenses, so I have no memory of what things were like before the Interstates were built. Based on the emails I received, a lot of folks had their lives turned upside down as their cherished family neighborhoods became nothing more than memories.
One email writer said, “Mr. Dunn, you obviously don’t like Interstate highways. What do you propose we do instead to meet our transportation needs?”
Um, I have no idea. I didn’t write a column about I-84 to solve major societal problems. I wrote that column to make some goofy comments about Audi and BMW drivers (and to use the words gouge and burg).
I never thought my essay would dig up a bunch of painful memories. I guess the lesson is that progress comes at a price. I just never realized how many people had to pay a very steep price.
If my memory serves me right, I remember hearing that Dad actually drove on I 95 before it was completed. This was after he and mom moved so far east out of N’Haven they landed in Rhode Island, wait, I mean, Clinton, CT!! Unfortunately his job remained in N’Haven.
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