Dear Auntie Mac,

I’ve lived here a few years, and this month my vocabulary increased to include words like ‘jake braking’, ‘fully loaded tri-axles’, ‘trailer dumps’, and ‘forage harvesting’.  All I really want to know is — why are the trucks that transport silage following the course of seemingly all vehicles and treating our roads like an Indy 500 race track? Barreling by bicycles and strollers, rattling our houses, obliterating our conversations, and scattering silage all over the road!?!  There’s an awful lot of discourse on social media over this issue – is there anything we can actually do regarding vehicles at large, and farm trucks in particular, racing through town?

Concerned Citizen

My Dear Neighbor:

Auntie Mac has several friends in the center of town who, when they feel that first warm spring breeze, do not welcome the venerable season with open arms and cheery heart, but rather they put on what Lars calls a “puss,” slit up their eyes, and commence grumbling about what they know will be a banner summer of noise, speeding, and uncivilized commotion through the heart of town. Auntie Mac is ill-equipped to deal with these marauding speed demons and their incessant need to wreak havoc at high decibel levels, but Main Street at least is the purview of the State Police, who should be called and called often, in protest and entreaty to perhaps send a nice officer to park quietly near the library and distribute tickets.

But let us not lump all these lumpkins into one sack, shall we? I do believe that Lars has a point when, after returning from some errand with his truck covered in what looks like bright green confetti, he suggests, in a manner unsuited to polite company, that the owners of the silage trucks would do well to invest in covers for the top of the load. That, I believe, would go a long way to keeping farm vehicles out of the crosshairs of overly distraught citizens. As for their speed, however, Auntie Mac offers an alternative view. Hampton prides itself on being a rural community. But it is one that is rapidly losing its rural nature. Those hardy souls who still work the land and raise animals must venture farther and farther afield for materials they need, including silage, having had to sell some of their own fields to pay for increasingly high taxes, the astronomical cost of machinery, and the myriad perils of trying to make a living providing food for the rest of us. So more and more they must rely on products from other farms, which are under economic pressures of their own. A silage truck racing through town is not always some hot-headed joyrider intent on ruining your day. It is the product of misplaced value that puts more and more farmers out of business, and of a fervent desire to keep those few farms operational, and get as many truckloads out to as many surviving farms as possible. Could they slow down a bit so as not to frighten children, cyclists and pets? Certainly. We would do well to go visit those places from whence the silage, hay, manure, etc. comes. We should talk to all farmers. We should ask them politely to slow their trucks down a bit, and in return we should pledge to support them by buying their local products. Above all, we should thank them. It is, after all, possible that these trucks are driving as if people’s lives–and livelihoods– depend on it.

Your Auntie Mac