Snow Plow Drivers Slow Down Sign
Only in Chicago...............the homeowner must of got tired of his home being bombarded by snow and ice as the plow would roar past the house. Feb 17, 2009
This article appeared in a local paper the following winter.
Slow the Plow
(www.southtownstar.com/news/tridgell/2 007222,012410tridgell.article)
January 24, 2010
By Guy Tridgell
If John Lopez wanted attention, he's got it now. For the past 15 years, Lopez has lived in a brick Georgian at 103rd Street and Trumbull Avenue in Chicago's Mount Greenwood community. He likes the home. Loves the neighborhood.
He just can't stand the snowplows.
Not all of the snowplows. Just the ones that come barreling down 103rd Street, sending tidal waves of slush, ice and salt to pelt the fence surrounding his yard and the northern face of his house.
"It sounds like we're getting hit by a car," Lopez said. "We know the drivers who live in the area are doing a super job. It's the guys who come in on relief, the cowboys. They are going way too fast next to these houses that are almost right on top of the street."
This winter, Lopez made his dissatisfaction known for all of the world to see - or at least anyone who drives along busy 103rd Street, just east of St. Xavier University. His approach has made him somewhat of a folk hero in the area.
Attached to his house are a pair of large signs purposely posted at the eye level of someone seated in the driver's seat of a plow.
"Snow Plow Drivers Slow Down," declares one. The other reads "I'm Tired Of Snow Plow Damage!" It shows the aftermath from an airborne avalanche of snow sent by a plow blade: A cedar fence post snapped like a toothpick and a gate buckled and splintered.
Lopez paid FedEx Office about $60 for the signs, each almost 3-by-3 feet on white cardboard.
To illuminate them, Lopez outfitted the side of his house with a light that kicks on at dusk.
"I know they have to see them," he said. "They have got their attention. That was my main goal. We'll see how they do."
Here's the kicker: Lopez drives a plow. For the Chicago Park District.
As a full-time truck driver, one of his many duties is clearing snow on park district property.
"Most of the guys are doing a great job," he said. "I'm just asking them nicely, 'Slow down.'''
The signs seem a little obnoxious, but they sure beat the alternative.
One night last winter, Lopez waited up for what he felt was one especially inconsiderate driver until 2 a.m. When he drove by Trumbull Avenue, he pounced and jumped on the plow's running board.
Armed with a digital camera, Lopez started snapping photos of the driver in the cab.
"He rolled down the window and I was like, 'Now I got you,'" Lopez said. "He got mad."
They rode that way all the way to Western Avenue. The driver didn't slow down until Lopez pulled out a cell phone and announced he was going to call 911.
Overzealous?
"I'm not just doing this for myself," he said. "The neighbors also are appreciative."
Lopez said the problems with plows started years ago, when the city widened 103rd Street to four lanes and put the road too close to houses up and down the street.
Since then, the blasts from passing plows have broken windows and ripped off gutters at his home as well as neighboring houses. Lopez said he tried filing reimbursement claims with the city, but the paperwork took about eight months to process.
"That was a pain in the neck," he said.
One time, he saw a neighbor get knocked down from a snow swell brought on by a speeding plow.
Two years ago, Lopez tuck pointed the side of his house because the salt ate away the mortar between the bricks.
Lopez said he complained to the city's streets and sanitation department. He called the office of Ald. Virginia Rugai (19th).
The results, he said, were spotty.
"She can't be out there holding their hands while they are driving," Lopez said. "The foremen can only tell their guys to slow down. They can't be out there with them 24/7."
The signs, he said, are a last resort.
"I've been told I think out of the box," Lopez said. "I think big."
Now the rest of Mount Greenwood can see that for themselves.
Snow Plow Drivers Slow Down Sign
Only in Chicago...............the homeowner must of got tired of his home being bombarded by snow and ice as the plow would roar past the house. Feb 17, 2009
This article appeared in a local paper the following winter.
Slow the Plow
(www.southtownstar.com/news/tridgell/2 007222,012410tridgell.article)
January 24, 2010
By Guy Tridgell
If John Lopez wanted attention, he's got it now. For the past 15 years, Lopez has lived in a brick Georgian at 103rd Street and Trumbull Avenue in Chicago's Mount Greenwood community. He likes the home. Loves the neighborhood.
He just can't stand the snowplows.
Not all of the snowplows. Just the ones that come barreling down 103rd Street, sending tidal waves of slush, ice and salt to pelt the fence surrounding his yard and the northern face of his house.
"It sounds like we're getting hit by a car," Lopez said. "We know the drivers who live in the area are doing a super job. It's the guys who come in on relief, the cowboys. They are going way too fast next to these houses that are almost right on top of the street."
This winter, Lopez made his dissatisfaction known for all of the world to see - or at least anyone who drives along busy 103rd Street, just east of St. Xavier University. His approach has made him somewhat of a folk hero in the area.
Attached to his house are a pair of large signs purposely posted at the eye level of someone seated in the driver's seat of a plow.
"Snow Plow Drivers Slow Down," declares one. The other reads "I'm Tired Of Snow Plow Damage!" It shows the aftermath from an airborne avalanche of snow sent by a plow blade: A cedar fence post snapped like a toothpick and a gate buckled and splintered.
Lopez paid FedEx Office about $60 for the signs, each almost 3-by-3 feet on white cardboard.
To illuminate them, Lopez outfitted the side of his house with a light that kicks on at dusk.
"I know they have to see them," he said. "They have got their attention. That was my main goal. We'll see how they do."
Here's the kicker: Lopez drives a plow. For the Chicago Park District.
As a full-time truck driver, one of his many duties is clearing snow on park district property.
"Most of the guys are doing a great job," he said. "I'm just asking them nicely, 'Slow down.'''
The signs seem a little obnoxious, but they sure beat the alternative.
One night last winter, Lopez waited up for what he felt was one especially inconsiderate driver until 2 a.m. When he drove by Trumbull Avenue, he pounced and jumped on the plow's running board.
Armed with a digital camera, Lopez started snapping photos of the driver in the cab.
"He rolled down the window and I was like, 'Now I got you,'" Lopez said. "He got mad."
They rode that way all the way to Western Avenue. The driver didn't slow down until Lopez pulled out a cell phone and announced he was going to call 911.
Overzealous?
"I'm not just doing this for myself," he said. "The neighbors also are appreciative."
Lopez said the problems with plows started years ago, when the city widened 103rd Street to four lanes and put the road too close to houses up and down the street.
Since then, the blasts from passing plows have broken windows and ripped off gutters at his home as well as neighboring houses. Lopez said he tried filing reimbursement claims with the city, but the paperwork took about eight months to process.
"That was a pain in the neck," he said.
One time, he saw a neighbor get knocked down from a snow swell brought on by a speeding plow.
Two years ago, Lopez tuck pointed the side of his house because the salt ate away the mortar between the bricks.
Lopez said he complained to the city's streets and sanitation department. He called the office of Ald. Virginia Rugai (19th).
The results, he said, were spotty.
"She can't be out there holding their hands while they are driving," Lopez said. "The foremen can only tell their guys to slow down. They can't be out there with them 24/7."
The signs, he said, are a last resort.
"I've been told I think out of the box," Lopez said. "I think big."
Now the rest of Mount Greenwood can see that for themselves.