DEC-A-5
THE DAY BEGINS WITH THE ROCKVILLE 10 K,
THE AREA’S OLDEST ROAD RACE,
POSTPONED BY A SNIPER AND NOW RUNNING THROUGH KING FARM,
FOLLOWED BY A BRONCO CLUSTER OF PROBLEMS FROM THE SLIPPERY SLOPE, THAT
STARTS WITH ME FORGETTING
December 8, 2002
I drove back late from the drop off of my big buck at Jim’s Custom Meat Cutting and dinner at English’s with Bill Webster, and stopped over in Cambridge to drop off my bag of hunting gear for the Cumberland Hunt in January, since Craig will be going down by his GMC truck with David, and I will be flying both ways through Jacksonville, to visit with Jennifer Curran who will accompany me on the return to go on with me to the Philippines, and after my December takeoff, brought by Michael Judy and the twins to BWI, I will go on to Gainesville to visit the Florida Geelhoeds.
I was stopped on the Beltway around Washington for over an hour by a big tractor/trailer accident. That meant that I got in after 1:30 AM in order to get up before dawn in the severe cold to go over to King Farm Village to toe the line with many of my colleagues at the oldest continuously run event in Montgomery County—the Rockville 10 K. It was supposed to have been run in October, but it was canceled the day before the race by another of the sniper shootings in that series before the arrests were made that brought that to a halt. This also gave me a chance to see the new, and not yet fully occupied King Farm Village—a boutiqued set of retail spaces BEHIDN THE NEW Safeway in the huge urban complex of what was the farmland through which I drove every day on my way to work. These “improvements” on the farms that are the natural environment are a reflection of the enthusiasm everyone has to make some more bucks.
I ran the race in the cold, and was surprised I made it without much effect of the cold—and paused afterwards for some of the goodies from the vendors at the race’s sponsors in King Farm Village. My dentist friend John who was so keen on my hunting expeditions came over afterwards, and I showed him the trophy collections, and I got both of us easily up and down the Derwood driveway.
I then drove off to church, and again was held up for a long time on New Hampshire by a serious accident, so I arrived very late. When I returned, I drove at the Derwood driveway rather rapidly in order to make it up to the top without putting it in four-wheel drive. Since it had melted just a little, this meant that the driveway was now a slick layer of ice in the snowy ruts. The Bronco did not make the turn in the drive and plowed over the edge into the woods, missing a big tulip poplar by four inches and bending over a few of the dogwoods. Now, what?
I put the emergency brake on and walked up the hill and came back with a shovel and shoveled the area under all four wheels. I then put it in four wheel drive and was puzzled that it could not back up at all. I was frustrated, since all my next few days of busy schedule will be ruined if I cannot get the car out. I looked up and down the street and saw no one to help. I went in and sat down to gather the materials I had to pack for the trip and went back out—this time seeing two neighbor kids whom I asked for help. They came over to push, and only then did I realize that the reason that I could not get the Bronco out on my own under the four wheel drive power is that the emergency brake was still on! Oh, no! I took it off and put it in four wheel reverse---and the two kids pushed it back so that the right side smashed against the tree bending and grinding on the mirror against the door. With subsequent rocking, the pressure threatened to cave in the door. No way. I thanked them and called the Airport Towing service, and a nice fellow from Uruguay with his Spanish-speaking-only uncle as an observer in the tow truck was surprised that I could understand and talk with them. He did a very expert job, simply by hooking the winch to the frame and pulling the whole Bronco sideways. I then backed it out—and now realize that I have some serious repair work to do on the right side truck mirror on which I am so much dependent.
So, every new day brings its uppers and downers, but this one is a self-inflicted downer, ironically traveling all over the state of Maryland Eastern and Western Shores and PA and getting damages in my own driveway.
The Aurora Drive house is officially listed, but I am getting grief from the realtors who say the house is going to have to be priced lower since it was not officially cleaned again after the workmen had come and gone and the condition of the house after all the requested repairs had been done has come to hinge on the slight soiling left behind by those very repair investments, and the new door and sidewalk may have improved the first impressions at the doorway, but made an unsightly mess beyond which will turn off the realtors showing the house. So, Dee Rosenberg is already on my case for lowering the price she had set under the competition, and all of that even after the repairs plus an additional professional cleaning service has been called in. This series of expenses in preparation for selling, added to the already outrageous selling costs of over $30,000 means that the long term investment in the house of 32 years is eroding the “profit” yield that seemed like such a high number in this “hot market.” Hot probably describes the middle men action, but—as always—not the primary producers, who were the original ones who put effort and capital at risk for so long. And, now, the other claimants are heard from again, still harping on inflated estimates of current real estate values as appraisals of the windfall they expect from me as the sole “market” for a single home property on Kipling Road. So, I am shorted on the selling end, and squeezed hard from the buying end, since, after all it is only ”Fair” to get a competitive developer’s price for Derwood---telling me—of all people---what is fair, after I have had thirty years sample of what greed has considered a fair apportionment of my resources!