There are no sidewalks here.  Well that’s not true.  A few can be found along some main roads, where double lines are actually painted.  But even then they come in spurts.  If there happened to be an extra three feet when they were making the roads, the powers that be decided to add a stretch of sidewalk.

In the winter, harsh winds, bitter cold, and snow keep the pedestrians off the roads—and sidewalks if you happen to find any.  So, drivers are only up against the weather.  There are the occasional do-or-die bikers out there and the die-hard runners, but they’re few and far between. 

The summer brings whole new obstacles to the roads.  The bikers are out in force.  It’s no longer just the professionals, but the amateurs join the bunch.  Since there are no sidewalks, as I’ve already mentioned, drivers’ skills are put to the test—mainly their ability to slam on the breaks.  The bikers take immense joy in pretending to be oblivious to the cars, especially when two cars come head on.  They inch a little further out in the road, assuring the fact that one car is going to have to slow down.

Most cars are pretty good at handling the bikers.  But when you add the pedestrians, and by that I mean people walking on their own, mothers with strollers or even with kids, people out in groups, it becomes a true jungle out there.  Mothers, believe it or not, are the best at getting over to the side and keeping their children to the side too.  The worst are the groups of three or more.  They hear a car coming and instead of moving into a single file line they stay abreast making it near impossible for a car to go anyway. 

So, if New England only had sidewalks, life would be easier for everyone.  When you start dodging people, kids and bikes, and you can’t find any sidewalks, well then you know you’re in New England.

Ahh but, I’m getting ahead of myself here.  My story doesn’t actually start in New England…  Let’s rewind twenty-six years…