Cougar Run
Like so many evenings, I find myself strolling down Cougar Run with dogs in tow. The evening light is particularly beautiful — with the setting sun illuminating the clouds pink and orange. The temperature is just right, cool enough to be enjoyable, but comfortable enough I can walk in shorts and a T-shirt. It’s the kind of evening I feel so grateful to live here.
As we round the curve in Cougar Run towards the straightaway, I hear the rev of the car’s engine before I actually see it. I realize they are going way too fast. I try to gather up the dogs toward me. It’s easy with Shawnee as I shout her favorite word — “Biscuits! Biscuits!” She has known that word since she was a young pup and instantly starts galloping towards me. But Simon, our 14-year old retriever mix, is another matter. During the last year, he has clearly lost his hearing. Yelling at him will do no good.
After I first adopted him, I signed him up for dog obedience training. The trainer taught us the usual voice commands — Sit, Down, Come Stay. But she also taught us hand signals. Arm vertically over head meant “Down.” A sort of spinning circle with my left hand outward meant sit. And a right hand held straight out followed by my hand folding in towards my chest meant Come.
We practiced these signals silently during class, engaging in a friendly competition of puppy push-ups, at which Simon excelled, reeling off 17 consecutive “Sits” and “Downs” in succession. The whole thing seemed entirely amusing, and I mostly forgot about it in the years after. On rare occasions I would demonstrate the puppy push-up to friends to show off my dog’s tricks.
But now with Simon mostly deaf, those hand signals have come in might handy. As I could see the truck bearing down, I frantically tried to catch Simon’s line of sight, waving my arm in and out towards my chest. I’m not sure why, but I keep thinking the more I do it the better, when what really matters is that he sees me.
I treasure living off the “back roads” because it’s wonderful to just meander along with the dogs, sometimes the only sound is the quaking of the aspen leaves. But as more and more people move in from out of town, they don’t seem to understand that people, children and dogs are frequently walking these roads.
Recently they widened Cougar Run to enable fire engines to make their way during a wildfire. While logically I recognize this as a very good thing (especially in light of last year’s wildfire), I don’t like the fact it has encouraged people to go even faster.
While a prominent sign is posted just before the straightaway – 15 miles per hour — it seems to have done nothing to curb these people from racing along my back road. I’ve joked to Bryon, that I’m going to get a shovel and start building “speed bumps” out of dirt to slow them down.
It’s particularly worrisome in winter, when the road is frequently snow-packed and icy. One winter morning, as I rounded the bend, a car came careening down towards us, trying to slam on her brakes at the last minute, back end fishtailing. Fortunately, the dogs and I were able jump into a snowbank at the last minute to save ourselves.
Perhaps the worst offenders are not even the residents, but delivery and repair vans and trucks. One particular incident stands out when my friend Barb and I were walking and a CenturyLink van zoomed down the road, clearly exceeding the 25 mph limit on Ridge Road. Later on Cougar Run, we confronted the same van coming straight towards us. Barb decided to stand our ground in the middle of the road, forcing him to stop.
We went up to the driver to have a chat.
“Do you realize the speed limit is 15 mph on this road? You are going way too fast!”
“I’m not going that fast, I’m driving the speed limit!” he protested.
We reiterated our request for him to slow down. To which he responded by dropping the F-bomb on us.
Not to be daunted, we got his name and license plate, and made a pact that we would both call CenturyLink to report him.
If you’re reading this, please just take a moment to think as you head off to work tomorrow morning or as you head home tomorrow evening. It could be your family walking down the road. Isn’t it worth an extra minute of your time to ensure the safety of the people who live here?
