Stick Ball Anyone?

The Jazz Bus: Stick Ball Anyone?
Recently I took a drive through the neighborhood. With school closed for the summer I knew I needed to drive cautiously as I would probably see plenty of kids riding bikes, playing in the streets, jumping rope, just having the time of their lives. What I saw was streets that were eerie, emptier than Dodge City’s Main Street during a noon showdown. Coincidentally, Cat Stevens, “Where Do the Children Play?” was on the radio. His mantra rolled around in my head for a bit. Then it came to me. The roads are basically unsafe. No one stops at the big red STOP sign any longer. Today, the octagonal sign is rather a mere suggestion that the driver slows a bit, from sixty to say a reasonable forty MPH, looking to and fro before speeding up again while driving unimpeded through the intersection. Oh, and all the while on their cell phone and smoking a cigarette with the other hand. My bride tells me I am getting grouchier because I yell and complain when I see things that do not make sense. OK, I am grouchy but rightfully so this time. This makes no sense.
Here’s how it happened: Traveling from Tanner Park on Wilson Avenue I slow as I pass the bait store knowing there is a STOP sign directly ahead at the intersection of Montauk Highway. Out of the corner of my eye a landscaping truck complete with an attached loaded equipment trailer goes through their STOP sign on the service road to my left thereby cutting me off. Luckily I was alone in the car and the only one subjected to possible whiplash. The passenger of the landscaping truck, the one without a seat belt on with his feet on the dashboard grinned widely at our predicament. When I regained my senses I beeped my horn so that they would know I was alright. The driver of the truck rolled down his window and gave me some form of sign language acknowledging that they were okay too. Relived that their entire crew of five in that small truck’s cab as well as the three men perched back in the trailer were safe and sound, I jotted down the phone number painted boldly on the side of their truck. Concerned as I was for their safety I made sure I called that number about every half hour or so from when I got home (about 2 a.m.) .Unfortunately the boss/owner never picked up. I tried again late last night and will again tomorrow.
So today I traveled to another busy intersection, one off the beaten path, parked my car for about fifteen minutes and observed. Yup, just what I thought. I must have missed the legislation issued that a red STOP sign now means NOTHING. Just an octagonal inconvenience placed on the side of the road, a true distraction for the driver. So I propose: no new STOP signs to be made or old ones repaired or restored. Just DRIVE AT YOUR OWN RISK signs like for swimming when there is no lifeguard at the beach.
I remember a time when kids played in the street from sun up to sundown without fear. The bumper sticker needs to be revised, DRIVE CAREFULLY-SCHOOL IS CLOSED.jazzbus@gmail.com