A friend of mine who works at GDOT’s HERO Unit headquarters sent me some photos the other day. They were touching but also hard to look at. The photos were taken at the funeral of Spencer Pass, the first HERO to be killed in the line of duty. I found out about it on Facebook. That’s how I find out about everything these days. None of the local news websites had it for hours. I confess that I was crushed to find out the news in such a generic way, but grateful that the friend who posted it had done so, and also grateful that I wasn’t the one who had to talk to the press. Another friend at GDOT told me they didn’t want to announce it until after they were able to reach the family. When the local media did pick up the story and published some photos of what had happened, I got angry.
Spencer Pass was one of ”my” HEROs. I was there for his graduation from the months-long training program. I took his picture, found out where he was from, and sent his story to the local weeklies in his county. He was highly regarded as a HERO, and he was also a nice guy. That fateful Monday, he had stopped to assist a motorist. His HERO truck was placed properly, amber caution lights blinking, on the right shoulder behind the motorist’s Ford Ranger. Spencer was standing in front of the Ranger, the motorist was on the passenger side. Suddenly a guy in a pickup truck sideswiped the back of the HERO truck, taking a chunk out of the left rear. It kept going, hit the motorist’s vehicle, then hit Spencer. The motorist was able to get out of the way. Spencer Pass, 45 and a father of three, was killed. (more…)
So much has happened since my last post, I hardly know where to begin. I’m no longer at GDOT’s Traffic Management Center, tweeting all the latest in Atlanta traffic. Let’s just say I got a better offer and it didn’t take long to decide to jump back into the private sector. Since then I’ve become one of the masses schlepping up and down SR 400, the Alpharetta Autobahn. When the lanes are open I fly low, all my previous attention to speed abandoned. When they’re not, which is pretty often, I sit and curse the rain, the snow, the construction, the idiots around me, jumping lanes and cutting others off. If I yell “ASSHOLE!” fewer than three times in one trip, it’s a good day.
Before I left the TMC, I drove up to Knoxville one weekend to see my old friends and hear Sarah Pirkle play her new album, “Walking Tall Through High Weeds.” The traffic slammed to a halt just south of the Calhoun exit. I could hear and see ambulances and firetrucks screaming down I-75 southbound, then appear in my rearview mirror as they snaked up the choked northbound lanes. Tractor-trailers ahead of me inched over to the right shoulder, but for the most part, we were all completely stopped. I called 511 and got the Operator to put me through to my friend Jennifer, who was manning the Supervisor’s desk that Saturday. I reported what I could see, and asked them to call the GSP. Then I called my friend Cissy, ranting that the traffic and the accidents followed me wherever I went. She was sympathetic, but knowing I lived for this shit, laughed and said they knew the TQ was coming. (more…)
