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Sacrifice in behalf of wind power

At the sound of the ruckus, I looked out a window to see a tractor-trailer rig hauling two of those preposterously huge 125-foot wind turbine blades north from Searsport to the site of a controversial wind farm project at Mars Hill, an endeavor commonly known by more than a few disgruntled County residents as the Great Mars Hill Mountain Defacement Boondoggle.

It was, in the immortal words of former New York Yankees catcher Yogi Berra, "deja vu all over again."I was sitting in my den talking with a friend Tuesday morning when our conversation was stopped dead in its tracks by a wicked big bang and thrashing about outside that sounded like the noise a bull elephant might make had he landed on the rooftop after leaping off a very tall building.

The commotion was eerily reminiscent of one I had last experienced during the historic ice storm of '98, when all of the external utility lines were ripped from the side of the house in the dead of night and I was sure the village was under sneak attack by the restless North Bucksport insurgency on the other side of the river.

At the sound of the ruckus, I looked out a window to see a tractor-trailer rig hauling two of those preposterously huge 125-foot wind turbine blades north from Searsport to the site of a controversial wind farm project at Mars Hill, an endeavor commonly known by more than a few disgruntled County residents as the Great Mars HillMountain Defacement Boondoggle.

As the huge load passed under the sagging telephone line that runs from my house to a streetside utility pole it snagged the line, and I was right... more [truncated due to possible copyright]  

It was, in the immortal words of former New York Yankees catcher Yogi Berra, "deja vu all over again."I was sitting in my den talking with a friend Tuesday morning when our conversation was stopped dead in its tracks by a wicked big bang and thrashing about outside that sounded like the noise a bull elephant might make had he landed on the rooftop after leaping off a very tall building.
 
The commotion was eerily reminiscent of one I had last experienced during the historic ice storm of '98, when all of the external utility lines were ripped from the side of the house in the dead of night and I was sure the village was under sneak attack by the restless North Bucksport insurgency on the other side of the river.
 
At the sound of the ruckus, I looked out a window to see a tractor-trailer rig hauling two of those preposterously huge 125-foot wind turbine blades north from Searsport to the site of a controversial wind farm project at Mars Hill, an endeavor commonly known by more than a few disgruntled County residents as the Great Mars Hill Mountain Defacement Boondoggle.
 
As the huge load passed under the sagging telephone line that runs from my house to a streetside utility pole it snagged the line, and I was right back in the pickle of '98 - up the creek without a telephone connection to the outside world.
 
The big rig continued to breeze on at a rather good clip, its driver presumably unaware of the wreckage in his wake. The cable whiplashed back forcefully against the house, finally coming to rest snarled around the pipes which Heating Oil Guy uses to deliver his liquid gold to my basement oil tank on a far-too-frequent basis. (Turns out the driver was having a bad day, as he also wiped out a crosswalk sign in uptown Hampden.)
 
Good show, I said, applauding heartily. And all quite legal, too, since the wrecking crew came complete with state police escort, blue lights ablazing, fore and aft. We laughed as we contemplated the devastation that might accrue during the roughly 180-mile Searsport-to-Mars Hill haul before this job is completed. If nothing else, it should keep the utility line crews in half the state working overtime for the next month or so.
 
When my guest offered me his cell phone to call for help there ensued a circus of minor proportions. Because I have no desire to become the stereotypical dork who walks or drives around all day trying to seem important with a cell phone glued to one ear, I refuse to own one of the damn things. I might as well have been handed the controls to a nuclear submarine, so in over my head was I with the cursed gadget.
 
Eventually I got hooked up with the telephone company, and after following the commands of a maddening series of robots - no human contact being allowed for the first six minutes of any conversation concerning repair service, or until smoke emerges from both of the caller's ears, whichever comes first - I hit pay dirt.
 
Repairs would be made the following day, I was assured by a live Verizon employee who obviously aimed to please. She was true to her word.
 
Early the next morning, Telephone Repair Guy arrived and had me back in service in jig time.
 
But an amazing thing happened on my way to reconnecting with the outside world, and, if there can be said to be any redeeming social value in my little tale of temporary woe, this would be it.
 
About two hours after the repairman had completed his work, I received a phone call from a Verizon lady who said she was terribly sorry for any inconvenience that may have befallen me as a result of the service disruption. The company would make things right by giving me credit for the 24 hours I was off line, she said.
 
A couple of hours later, Mr. Repair Guy His Very Own Self also called to see how my reconnection was working out, and to say that should I have further problems he would take it as a personal affront if I failed to let him know about it.
 
Yes, Virginia, there is still such a thing as great customer service. In fact, the folks at Verizon were so downright accommodating I'm kind of hoping my line gets re-snagged on the next dash through town by the Wind Turbine Blade People, just so I can do business with them again.
 
NEWS columnist Kent Ward lives in Winterport. His e-mail address is olddawg@bangordailynews.net.


Source: http://www.bangornews.com/...

APR 22 2006
https://www.windaction.org/posts/2268-sacrifice-in-behalf-of-wind-power
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