Why do we drive on a parkway and park in a driveway?

The etymology of these two words dates back to the early twentieth century, shortly after the birth of the automobile. This grand invention ushered in a whole new set of problems for our nation's transportation highways and byways. Previously, a 'paved' road meant little more than a narrow strip of crushed stone. This was a fine surface for a horse and carriage to travel upon (neither the horse nor the riders expected much in the way of a smooth ride), but it certainly wouldn't do for the automobile. This horseless carriage provided a much faster and more economical means to get from point A to point B, but the price for this convenience was twofold: the dangers concomitant with high speeds, and the inevitable wear and tear on the roadways. It wasn't long before the leaders of each state's newly formed Departments of Transportation got together with industrial scientists to produce a magical material which today we take for granted - namely, asphalt. This 'Black Carpet' as it was called seemed the perfect answer - it was tough, stable, and would not deform under the pressures of rapid acceleration or braking. There was but one problem - it was expensive to produce. The industrial giants were not yet prepared to turn out asphalt as quickly as was needed - neither the equipment nor the manpower was available. It would be the 1930's before this dilemma was to be solved. In the meantime, the little asphalt that was produced was used not necessarily where it was needed most, but instead where people were willing to pay for it. Thus, three major arenas were blacktopped first. Initially paved were the racetracks, such as the Indianapolis Motor Speedway - which previously had resorted to a succession of wooden boards to provide the requisite traction for its speeding racers. Second came the main thoroughfares of our country's wealthiest cities. One of the first public asphalt-paved roads in the country (and one which was archetypal of those that would shortly follow) was the Benjamin Franklin Parkway in Philadelphia. Before the paving, the parkway had been, as its name suggests, a meandering road separating the outskirts of the city's bustling downtown from bucolic Fairmount Park. Such a city design was common at the turn of the century, having been initiated during Paris' Urban Rennaissance of the late 1800's. Thirdly came the private grounds of some of America's more well-to-do residents. Because driving at high speeds on the nation's chopped-stone highways was so singularly uncomfortable and dangerous, these citizens decided to construct private tracks on their own land. This would allow them to experience truly exhilirating driving. And these thoroughfares were dubbed 'driveways' because that's precisely what they were designed for. In time, the distinction between the public parkway and the private driveway became cemented in our collective consciousness, partly because they were for many years two of the only places one could find asphalt, and partly because they signified the classist divide evident during the Roaring Twenties.*

* This post is at least 85% false.

Wi-fi at the zoo

I would like to say that this blog has been many things to many people. In reality, it has been very few things to pretty much just one person.

I've waited over three years for a horde of infobahn travelers to become obsessed with my thoughts on fast food. I think I can now safely say that this group does not exist. Would that it did...but here we are.

Perhaps my audience does not have computer access. Imagine a Venn diagram where one circle represents the internet community at large, and another (possibly smaller) circle represents the portion of humanity that is desperate to read about the Laws of Fastfoodynamics.

These circles do not intersect.

Perhaps my audience is non-human. Monkeys would find this shit fascinating. But it's just so tough for them to get online.

The reason is neither here nor there. It's high time for a reboot. Rather than completely scrap this blog, I'm going to make an effort to transform it into something with a touch broader appeal. Look for a ten-part series on simian internet surfing, and the challenges they face therein.

Before I start posting new crap, I'm going to dig through my archives of some of my other defunct blogs and throw up some items that amused me for one reason or another. You know, for posterity. Or whatever.