You Want Beef? We’ve Got Lots of Beef!

You know an ad was good when it sticks in your memory, sometimes too long. Remember the sweet, grandmotherly Clara Peller, who asked, “Where’s the beef?” in a 1984 Wendy’s TV commercial?
I thought of Peller when Wildwood Mayor Ernest “Ernie” Troiano was speaking to freeholders July 24 about the proposed revamping of West Rio Grande Avenue in his city. The idea advanced by County Engineer Dale Foster via an engineering firm is to raise the road and, with aid of pumped funded (if the grants god smiles on Wildwood) by $3.5 million in federal aid to quickly rid the water that often floods the area and chokes entrance and exit from the island on Route 47.
Troiano’s beef? When high water closes the road, as it often does on full moon high tides, especially if accompanied by a storm, the state will close Route 47. Trouble is, the closure isn’t made known to drivers until about three miles east of Garden State Parkway when they get to the bridge, only to be turned around by state trucks.
Why can’t the state Department of Transportation notify motorists as soon as they exit Garden State Parkway while there is still time to divert to another way onto Five Mile Beach?
The mayor said City Hall is inundated by irate calls when that happens, as if the solons of the city were responsible.
Next beef? The narrowing of Route 47 in Rio Grande.
Traffic engineers are a curious lot. We, who suffer their design flaws, are left in wonderment about why traffic is directed in certain ways. The proof is seen daily right outside by office window.
Once bucolic Rio Grande now hosts a strip not unlike Admiral Wilson Boulevard in Camden. It’s virtually impossible to hold a conversation on the sidewalks here, due to the traffic noise.
Remember the hellish Route 47 “improvement project” that tore this part of Middle Township to pieces a number of years ago? Dirt, detours, cursing merchants and irate drivers were all part of the unhappy mix.
Fast forward to the present. Traffic soars out of Wildwood toward the shopping mecca that is Rio Grande. Two lanes mystically become three westbound (there’s a turn, or is it called a “suicide” lane?)
Then, as if by magic, near the Herald building two lanes are squeezed into one. Brakes squeal every day, and often horns blare as unyielding drivers won’t give an inch to a poor schmuck trying to get into one westbound lane.
When all hell was broken loose in that past highway mess, why wasn’t the road made two lanes in each direction all the way through Rio Grande?
To be consistent, the same grueling funnel effect happens near Rio Grande Firehouse when two lanes suddenly become one. Macho drivers, unwilling to grant right of passage to an equally macho motorist, will floor their jalopies to see who will chicken out at the last minute and let A or B “win” and get a car ahead of them.
You old Navy vets might recall the phrase, “There’s right way, the wrong way and the Navy way.” The present Route 47 configuration is obviously the Navy way! It’s like watching two ferryboats trying to squeeze into Cape May Canal at the same time.
Next beef: Drivers who persist in using a cell phone, hand to ear, oblivious to lights and people. Enforcement? Ha! “Catch us if you can” seems the rule of the road. This same malady is sweeping the Garden State, and is beginning to infect bicyclists and dog-walkers.
Next beef: Self checkout counters that mandate the human who oversees four such units to swipe a magical card after the dread words “Call for assistance” are seen. The checkers’ union must have it in the contracts, regardless of self-checkout, the cashier MUST oversee each purchase.
Be quick, or you’ll also hear the blood-curdling words, “Unexpected item in bagging area.” That’s a sure sign you are up to no good!
Like Charlie Brown as Lucy holds the football and promises not to swipe it away as he kicks, I keep thinking, “Maybe it won’t happen to me this time.” Then, sure enough, fumble-fingers messes up the checkout and the cashier has to bail me out every time. Maybe I should learn my lesson and use a human cashier to speed me out of the store.
Next beef: Mandatory gas attendants to pump gas at New Jersey filling stations. We have the option to smoke or not, to imbibe or not, to wear sun block or not. Why must we be consigned to wait for our turn when one-attendant attempts to run an entire fill station alone?
If we wish to pump our own gas, why not install pumps that permit plastic money to be accepted and let us do our own pumping? Gas stations, not known for overpaying the help, put one poor soul on a busy shift to pump for 10 vehicles at a time. Cut us a break, if we so choose, let is pump and be gone.
Allow the attendant to pump for those who don’t want to get their hands dirty. At least afford us the option. It’s only Oregon and New Jersey that won’t allow self-pumping of gas. Notice I didn’t say it would save money, because in states where you can pump your own, gas is really higher priced than here.
There’s the beef for what it’s worth.