Highway Robbery

After his service in World War II, my father received his union card for Carpenter’s Union #369, and began a lifelong career in construction. When I was quite young, he had the misfortune of falling off a bridge and breaking his back. There was no paralysis, but during his long recuperation, he was unable to perform the physically taxing work his job demanded.

 

Fortunately, his brother’s brother-in-law arranged for a job as a toll-taker on the Grand Island Bridge, part of the New York State Thruway system. Dad told many stories from those days, but my favorite was the anonymous driver who handed him a char-broiled hot dog on his way through the toll lane – with mustard and pickles, just the way my dad liked it.

 

In today’s world, the job that put a perfect hot dog in my father’s hands and kept food on the table for a young family is facing extinction, as we discovered on a recent trip to visit with the sweet Emma Belle (and her parents) at a campground in central Pennsylvania. I was prepared to hand over a wad of cash  at the PA Turnpike toll booths along the way, but low and behold, there was no toll-taker holding out a hand for my money. Instead, a camera snapped a picture of our license plate. No explanation, no possibility of paying our way as we moved along the highway. Blame the nasty Corona for this too – at least that’s what the turnpike commission claims. 

 

The bill came in the mail five weeks after our trip. Opening the envelope, I was stunned at the price tag – seventy two dollars and forty cents. We’d only driven about 120 miles each way on the Turnpike. That’s highway robbery! We’ve been pandemic-enforced homebodies for quite some time, but that was definitely sticker shock.

 

As it turns out, the robber barons offered me a deal – enroll in E-Z Pass and the cost becomes a bargain at $35.30, saving me $37.10, more than a 50% reduction in the toll. Visit our website or call this number, and easy-peasy, you’re a member of the Pennsylvania E-Z Pass club, with reciprocal kindnesses for Ohio. Of course, I’d have to put money on an account with my new friends, and pay for (and be responsible for) a transponder so that Big Brother could keep an eye on my movements. I’ve watched enough Law and Order: SVU over the years to know where this is going. Talk about conspiracy theories. 

 

Aside from the ability of the government to track my comings and goings, at least on toll highways, now I would have to keep track of an E-Z Pass transponder and have my hard-earned money sitting in some government account with the expectation that I’ll travel on one of their toll roads sometime soon. With no trip to Maine on the horizon, that’s wishful thinking on their part and on mine.

 

I had to make a tough decision: is saving $37.10 worth the trouble it takes to get an E-Z Pass, when I might not use it? I gave in and went to the website, signed away my first born, provided my credit card information, and got to the final step – paying my bill. Instead of paying $72.40, the original toll, I was now paying $73.30, which included the reduced toll, the annual fee pf $3.00, and a payment of $35.00 , “on account.” So much for “let’s make a deal” or “the price is right.” I’ll have to leave a note with my last will and testament so my kids can recoup that $35.00. 

 

What’s frustrating is the extortionist price of taxation for those without their precious transponder. Some, like myself, are unaware of this penalty, while others (maybe like myself) don’t trust this newfangled technology or simply want to pay their way as they go, a lesson learned from my depression-scarred parents. Why penalize responsible people like this? 

 

As I add mustard and pickles to my next Sahlen’s hot dog (available at Buehlers), I’ll remember this, Pennsylvania. One more occupation gone to the advances of technology. At least this fever hasn’t spread to Ohio – yet. Stay tuned . . .