No Through Trucks Coming back up the driveway, I was suddenly bathed in the lights of a very large truck as it turned the corner. I don't mean a Dodge Ram or a Ford F-150. This was a semi-tractor trailer, the kind you see on construction sites, hauling a double belly-dumper emblazoned with large, bright letters: "[REDACTED]". I know from the direction it took next that it was headed straight for [REDACTED], so I jauntily extended toward the driver of that truck my middle finger. I wrote that last February, hoping to have some kind of slowing effect on the commute of commerce through my neighborhood; alas, no dice. Last week, upon being awakened from a slumber that was barely long enough to induce rapid eye movement, I squinted at the clock with the four-inch-high numbers on it, which read 4:59. Another one of those massive double belly-dumpers had just roared past my bedroom window, and I knew for a fact there were more on the way. I got up, put on a pair of shoes to go with my shorts and tee shirt, and went outside with my trusty disposable camera. You see, for the most part, I am one of those happy fools who actually believes that the laws were made to be obeyed. Of course, heed must be paid to Saint Thomas Aquinas on the matter of the unjust law (which he defined as "no law at all"). I happen to believe, with a nearly evangelical fervor, that signs saying NO THROUGH TRUCKS are to be interpreted by laymen and legal experts alike to mean NO THROUGH TRUCKS. I noticed the next semi tractor-trailor approaching, so I advanced the frame and warmed up the flash. When said truck paused at the stop sign, I snapped the shutter, momentarily bathing the intersection in a pop of blue-white light. Immediately, the cab door opened and the trucker jumped out. I frowned, the word damn echoing in my still-sleepy head. Somehow, I had neglected to anticipate this. He yelled, "You took my picture?" I spent no more than half a second sizing the fellow up. He looked a few years younger than I am, and about the same size and build, so hopefully he wouldn't want to tangle with me in the street (chronic blusterers seldom do). I replied, "No through trucks." He sneered in a way that let me know he had experienced this sort of conversation before, though probably not combined with the advent of photography, and said, "Local delivery." I told him I didn't care. I told him that the major artery was right there next to his delivery point, that he didn't need to be cruising through my neighborhood at five o'clock in the morning. He asked, rhetorically I would think, "You want me to back this truck up onto Indian School Road?" I gave him an affirmative on that, and he barked out a harsh laugh. I reminded him that it was, in fact, five o'clock in the morning. There's not a lot of traffic down there at five o'clock in the morning, and I did point out that he and his colleagues were waking me up every time they drove past. "Well," he said, loudly, "[REDACTED] you." And he got back in the truck, put 'er in gear, and started on his merry way. I didn't figure him to be Amish, so I discarded his sensitivities, and took another picture. The next day, only one big rig rolled through the neighborhood, and that wasn't until well after seven o'clock in the morning. Fair enough, I figured. I must have gotten through to him - technology usually does the trick. Two days after that, however, five trucks in a row went screaming past, the first of which even disregarded the stop sign. I took some more snapshots (which I'll post up on this site at my leisure), and then I did something I rarely do... I called the cops. The first cop I talked to agreed with my particular stance (NO THROUGH TRUCKS), and he gave me the telephone number of the "Northern Command" (602-495-5001). He said that those guys would assist me in my fight against Goliath. All good intentions aside, he was mistaken. They did not. If the trucks are doing local pickups and deliveries, I was told over the phone by someone at the Northern Command, there's nothing that says they can't use local streets to get back to a main artery. It made no sense to me; are there not signs posted? Tough luck, though... But then I mentioned the truck that had blown the stop sign. That's different, so I was given a number to call, so I could report the bad driving, which I did. It still didn't feel right, though, so I took the liberty of investigating the matter further. Therein lies beauty of the Internet; all of these laws are posted somewhere. One simply has to get some dirt under one's nails digging for them. Here is what the City of Phoenix has to say about commercial trucks rumbling through residential areas, in Section 36-88.03B (exceptions to route and traffic zone restrictions): "Trucks may operate off of arterial streets only for the delivery and pickup of merchandise, materials or equipment going to or from a specific location on local or collector streets. Trucks shall use the shortest route on local or collector streets to and from the arterial streets." (Emphasis mine.) So the cop at the Northern Command got it wrong. The shortest route back to the arterial street is not a three-quarter-mile circuit through my neighborhood. It's about thirty feet back the way they came in. The civic hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up for an entirely different reason. This is about much more than stupid, lazy truck drivers who don't want to obey the laws. It also seems to be about a certain existing municipal mindset when it comes to persuading big business to obey those same laws. I could tilt at this windmill until my dying day, but in Phoenix, industry apparently comes before everything else. It comes before the safety of your children. It comes before peace and quiet. It comes before property values. It even comes before the official traffic code. And that's fine, really, since I prefer psychological warfare anyway. If being a good citizen doesn't get the job done, I'll drift into alternative methodology. For instance, if you don't want to be offended, perhaps even made sick, stay away from my neighborhood after sunrise because there's going to be more to see there than mere semi tractor-trailers. You may also find me out there, pulling weeds in my easement, just a few feet away from where those trucks will have to stop (when they feel like stopping, I mean). I wouldn't want anyone to accuse me of blight or anything, and I could stand the bending-and-lifting exercise besides, so those weeds must be pulled. Oh, by the way... I'll be wearing a day-glow thong. If you get really close, you'll be able to read the message printed on it: NO THROUGH TRUCKS. Paul Heller 05/09/05 << back to the archives
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