Twice each work day, I have to drive through the borough of Sewickley.
Oh, wait. Sorry, In Sewickley, they call it a village. Whoops.
Sewickley’s, uh, a little different. If you grew up with me, here’s an illustration — South of Lane UA, with a central business district that resembles Lane Avenue’s current shopping line-up. It’s a very nice place, and Mrs. Crappy and I enjoy our visits there. But we’ve encountered some pretty significant attitudes while we’ve been there as well.
And that’s where I’m curious what’s going to happen as the weather gets warmer, and I begin my practice of, uh, sharing the music I’m playing in my car with everyone else who’s traveling on Ohio River Boulevard. I thought of it this very morning: Exactly how much tolerance will Sewickley police officers have to Parliament Funkadelic?
I also thought: If I go through the entire summer without getting pulled over in Sewickley, it’s going to be a miracle?
I can only imagine how the residents of the “Village of Sewickley” would have reacted to a big orange truck with headers happily sharing Jerry and his friends in their quaint, quiet neighborhood. I believe they might have run his ass out of the village!
Ahhh….Sewickley. I have many fond memories of the young lads from Sewickley Academy thoroughly trouncing the UA lacrosse team.
Turn the volume up to 11.
DM: I will pay my first fine in your honor.
Run 20 red lights in mine?
Back in the not too distant past, I worked in Sewickley for a few years at a startup, 120 hour weeks and all… An interesting place, with a few fun places to visit. The well stocked wines and spirits accross from the cigar shop after a nice (if slightly over priced) lunch of salad and tomato dill soup. And except for parking violations very little police intervention (maybe its because we were writing software for them but…), even with a three a day quad latte habit and the occaisional stroll into work in pajamas (I’m not proud of it, but sometimes, when your in the trenches, the rules of the common man no longer apply). I definitely shared with the neighbors my own blend of auditory enlightenment from time to time: Jerry, Trey, Dre, George, et. al. with little problem. However, I always had the sneaking suspicion that the fishmonger on the main street there was an old head. Never confirmed, but after awhile you learn to sense them…