Archive » March 2025 » Columns

DELANSON — A taste of spring! It may only be one day, but a very good taste it is, blue sky, nearly 70 degrees, it might even reach and beat the record of 70 degrees. Then colder tomorrow, but the trend is for the temperatures to keep getting warmer.

Now that we have daylight saving, the days are obviously lighter longer but the sunrise suffered a setback. Even with that setback, we shall enjoy the rest of the good news regarding the weather.

A pretty sunrise was happening just as we arrived at Gibby's Diner on March 11. I knew it was going to be a happy breakfast for at least one OF when I saw a brand new, and very clean, totally electric, bright red car pull up and park, front and center, like he owned the place. A great day to drive your new car on clear, clean, and dry roads.

When he came in, we acknowledged his good looking new car. He said thanks, then he said something about the GPS in the car and his fingers not hitting the right buttons. The first thing that came to my mind was, “Why are you messing with the GPS? The OMOTM have been going to the same diners for quite a while and none of us have ever gotten lost.”

Of course, I knew why, because I would do the same thing if I had a new car that had new toys in it. Gotta check the stuff out. The OF knows perfectly well how to get to Gibby’s Diner, but does the GPS know? That’s the question.

Let’s set this thing up and see if it takes me the same way I travel. If it passes that test, then maybe I’ll trust it to guide me to someplace I haven’t visited before. Maybe.

Of course, this led our table into a rather extended discussion of our adventures involving our respective GPSs. Most of these stories were humorous, involving the old computer saying, “Garbage in equals garbage out.”

Also a lack of a clear understanding of how much information is required, in what order, on which menu page. For instance, you just can’t put an address for 123 Main St., Albany. On some GPSs, you must put in the state or you may be getting directions for Albany, Georgia or Albany, Washington — there are lots of places named Albany in the USA.

On my GPS, it doesn’t want to know the city, just the state. And, if I input both, it just stops working altogether and I have to back out of where I am.

Usually we all agreed that most of the time we just turned it off and started over again while trying desperately to remember where it was when the fatal mistake was committed.

Then there are the cell phones. They have GPS built in and cars now come equipped with GPS, which is as common as the steering wheel. The full color display screen is bigger than my first black-and-white TV.

And they talk to each other! I think you can just talk to your cellphone GPS and ask it how to get someplace and, of course, it will show and tell you everything you need to know on its own screen.

Someone else on their computer located anywhere in the world can send the info to your cell. Your cell phone will give the information to your car’s GPS system, and then, if you have a car that drives itself, you can just recline your seat, fluff your pillow, and tell your GPS to wake you upon arrival.

Of course, that computer could have just communicated directly with your car. At about that point in the conversation, I started to concentrate on eating my breakfast of ham and eggs.

This stuff really is great. One of the OFs at the table told the story of his GPS informing him of an accident ahead and of a detour he could take to avoid it. He followed the advice of the GPS, and found himself traveling along a parallel road to the road he was on.

When he looked over, he saw the ambulance just arriving at the accident. His GPS obviously got the same message at the same time as the first responders. Amazing.

I had two similar experiences with my earlier GPS — mine was not built into the car. It started to suggest I take the next exit, and it suggested this several times.

Back then, it didn’t talk to me, just suggested taking the next exit. It knew where I was, and knew the next exit number and, since I had programmed it as to where I was going, it knew how to get me there. Of course, I ignored all the suggestions and breezed right on by the exit and then read an overhead sign that told me of an accident ahead.

Too late. I was soon stuck in a traffic jam for miles! The second time this same suggestion came to me months later, I paid attention and got off and did not end up in a traffic jam.

More GPS stories next week, one of which involves the classic line, “You mean there was no there, there?”

This week, we were there there at Gibby’s Diner, with or without GPS help, and those present were Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Ed Goff, Frank A. Fuss, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Jamey Darrah, Marty Herzog, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Warren Willsey, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Roland Tozer, Pastor Jay Francis, John Williams, Lou Schenck, Gerry Cross,  Herb Bahrmann, Jack Norray, John Jaz, Paul Guiton, John Dab, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Jake Herzog, and me.

There was a great TV show in the 1970s called “Kung Fu.” It was about the adventures of Kwai Chang Caine, a Chinese “Shaolin Priest,” or monk, played by David Carradine.

Though Carradine was not Asian, he had the kind of face, facial expressions, and demeanor that let him be very believable in the role. In fact, he was great at it.

His character defended his Master when the Master was insulted. In that society — a feudal type of society, kind of like our Wild West but with swords instead of guns — any kind of slight from an underling could not be tolerated.

He’s forced to leave his home and all he’s known and winds up traveling through the old American west armed only with his wits and fierce martial arts skills.

As you can imagine, he was not taken too kindly by many folks in the rough and tumble American west. He meets all kinds of people and gets into dramatic and dangerous adventures every episode.

Seeing him wipe out six cowboys at a time with swift roundhouse kicks, throws, and chops never gets old. Note: He didn’t go around beating people up because he wanted to; it was only used as a last resort, which made it all the more poignant.

Often, before someone knew what Caine was physically capable of, they’d look at him dressed in rags, barefoot, and with no possessions, and say something like, “What can you possibly do about it?”

The answer he always gave, which still resonates with me today, was this: “I can think. I can wait. I can fast.”

Let’s briefly examine each of these.

Clearly we know that the following are not wise activities: smoking two packs a day, drinking until you pass out, beating your spouse, gambling away the rent money, shoplifting, and standing on the edge of the cliff at Vrooman’s Nose to take a selfie.

Yet people still do these things and much worse all the time. Tellingly, we have the largest prison population of any country in the world.

Are people really thinking when they engage in such questionable and often dangerous behaviors? I don’t think so. Just because we have the ability to think doesn’t mean we do it.

We all have to make decisions and choices throughout the day and throughout our lives. Some of these choices are trivial — pepperoni or cheese pizza, let’s say — but others much more so: drop out of school, steal from your grandparents, etc.

Truly, the ability and inclination to simply think before acting are so, so important. In fact, the word THINK was the long-time slogan for a little company called IBM, and they did all right.

One good thing about getting old — assuming you live that long — is you make enough mistakes that you finally learn from them. That’s called wisdom, and it’s often wasted on the young, as the saying goes.

When we’re young, we’re invincible, or so we think. When I look at the dangerous stuff I did in my misspent youth I’m genuinely amazed that I’m sitting here today writing this.

Next is waiting. This is a very underappreciated skill but one that is very powerful. In fact, if hormone-crazed teenagers could learn to wait, we’d have a lot less problems in the world (though I know that is notoriously tough — been there, done that).

There is a famous experiment where a small child is given a cookie but is told if he or she can wait a couple of minutes while the researcher leaves the room he or she can have a second cookie. As you would expect, some kids can wait and some can’t.

The fascinating thing is they’ve followed these kids long-term and the ones who waited had much, much better life outcomes than the ones who couldn’t. Wow.

Being able to wait — for a flight, for graduation, for Christmas, or whatever — comes down to being able to put off instant gratification and learning to think long-term. I, for one, try never to be without a book no matter where I am. Books keep the brain cells functioning like nothing else and really help me tolerate waiting.

As for long-term thinking, as a kid I always thought time dragged on slowly, especially during the long, hot and humid summers in the city. But, once you’re an adult with a spouse, kids, a job, and a house, you have so much to do all the time that time really seems to fly by.

I’ve often imagined what I would do if I were held captive for a long time. How would I deal with the solitude and lack of mental stimulation?

Assuming my physical needs were met — including dental floss, haha — it comes down to passing time without dying of boredom. Some of the activities I’ve thought of to pass the time include writing a whole computer software system in my head, or designing the floor plan for my dream house (more garage bays than bedrooms would be nice, thank you very much). Learning how to wait patiently is an asset for sure.

Finally, we have fasting. For a while I was doing a complete one-day fast weekly. When I had colonoscopy prep, I had to fast for two days.

Then there is intermittent fasting, where you only eat between certain hours, say 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. There are many ways to fast, and you can do it if you try. Giving your digestive system a break — especially around or after the holidays when so much food is served — can be a good idea.

I have a friend who told me that, one time, he wasn’t feeling right spiritually so he fasted for nine days. Nine days! I asked him how he felt afterwards and he said not too bad but he admitted he was a little lethargic at work.

Can you imagine that — he went to work while not eating for nine days straight. I only worked in a cubicle at a desk, nothing too physical, yet even I wouldn’t try that.

The point is, fasting is a tool that can be used to get your diet, or even your spirit, back in shape. Use it wisely and please check with your doctor first if you’ve never done it before. Just because it works for some doesn’t mean it will work for you.

Being able to think, wait, and fast are not as exciting as wicked cool martial arts skills, but in many ways are equally as powerful. Try them, grasshopper, and you will not be disappointed.

SCHOHARIE — The Old Men of the Mountain met at the Your Way Café in Schoharie on March 4 with gray skies and temperatures climbing into the upper 40s. Tomorrow it may reach 50 degrees while it rains most of the day.

Every day that it doesn't snow is a good day at this stage of the winter. I have even heard from some of our OFs in Florida talking about returning soon. I had a couple of red-wing blackbirds at my feeders this weekend. That's a good sign. No robins yet.

We enjoyed the return of one of our OFs who didn't fly south but has been away for a while. Sometimes, when the snow and ice and zero-degree temperatures and darkness and the wind and Father Time all kind of combine to tell us something that sounds a lot like, “Hey OMOTM, this just might be a good time to stay home for a while,” we should listen.

We didn’t arrive at this stage in our journey just to slip and fall and break a hip or catch the flu or COVID. Or, should we say, let the flu or COVID catch us. Just last week, I mentioned one of our OFs was back after he had slipped on the ice and broke his leg. It happens so fast.

Remember a couple weeks ago when I was considering asking a younger OF to pick me up and drive to the OMOTM breakfast because of the ice and snow in my driveway? Well, a package was delivered to my house this weekend and I went to pick it up.

I took one step on that icy driveway and down I went down in a flash, and I knew that ice was there! It just takes a little longer for some of us to learn things. I learned two things: Ice can be really slippery and it is hard!

A fun story overheard at one of the tables was about one of our OFs who was in the hospital as a kid. He was recounting the story of the food being served.

He said the food was all right; it was just that he didn’t like some of it, like spinach. He also said, if you wanted seconds, you first had to eat everything on your plate. That sound familiar to anyone?

Well, he said there was one overweight kid there that liked everything. So our OF, and others, would give him the food they didn’t like and then present their clean plates for seconds of what they did like.

How long have we all been finding ways around the rules? From hiding the peas under the lip of our plates at home to fooling the hospital with our clean plates?

A long time, I suspect, for all of us in one form or another, and no, I will not give out any personal examples. However, if any OF wishes to confess to a thing or two, you know where I sit on any given Tuesday.

 

Fat Tuesday

March 4 was also Fat Tuesday, otherwise known as Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras is the French name for the festive day celebrated in France on Shrove Tuesday, which is the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, which marks the close of the pre-Lenten carnival season.

The “fat” comes from the custom of using all the fats in the home before Lent in preparation for fasting and abstinence. Mardi Gras is a Christian tradition celebrated worldwide with the first celebration in America taking place in Mobile, Alabama in 1703.

It wasn't until 1831 that it really heated up and got going. New Orleans is the place to be for the biggest celebration in the United States today. Although it is still a huge event in Mobile with dozens of parades and balls every year.

Mr. Google also told me about the beads. There are three colors: gold, green, and purple. They represent power, faith, and justice and are commonly distributed throughout the carnival, usually tossed from the floats.

A special kind of cake is consumed during the carnival. It is called a king cake. It is circular, sweet, and there is a gift of a small toy or a tiny plastic baby Jesus hidden inside. Whoever finds this gift inside their piece of king cake officially becomes “King for a Day” and must also supply the season’s next king cake, or host the next party!
In addition, I learned about the masks that are worn. Wearing masks is a traditional part of Mardi Gras. There are several reasons people wear these masks. Not at all surprising, is that some of those reasons have their roots in religion.

Originally, masks were also worn so that people of all classes could mingle freely. The servants, employees, slaves, everyone, had the day off to celebrate. Everyone was equal behind those masks. Cool idea.  

The three classes of OMOTM (old, older, oldest) present on Tuesday and not wearing masks while enjoying breakfast at the Your Way Café in Schoharie were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Miner Stevens, Frank A. Fuss, Roland Tozer, Marty Herzog, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Pastor Jay Francis, Gary Burghoff, Jamey Darrah, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, John Jazz, Henry Whipple, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Dave Wood, and me.

I remember in grade school having that special three-lined paper to learn penmanship and cursive writing. Often the paper came in booklet form. The teachers would draw a perfect letter on the blackboard, and we would try to replicate it.

Having that dashed center line was a big help. It made it easy for young hands to size the letters consistently.

Believe it or not, I was actually able to write legibly in cursive from following this regimen. I wasn’t great at it, but I could read back what I had written and even turn in assignments.

Some of us were better at it than others. In general, maybe because they took more time or cared more, it was obvious the girls were much better at neat, legible, and in many cases, quite beautiful cursive writing.

Most of the boys, it seemed, just did it and then moved on, though there was always that one guy in every class who could write and draw like an artist through some gift from God. You know the one, the guy who could just sketch freehand something incredible like it was nothing. How I wish I could do that.

My handwriting wasn’t bad until I got my first serious job, which was at a bank. I was a teller, then a head teller, then an EDP (Electronic Data Processing) Auditor. Each new job came with increased responsibility.

This meant I was signing and approving things all day long. After a while, speed became more important than legibility. You think I’m kidding?

Try being a bank teller at 4 p.m. in Penn Station with a hundred seething people in line and everyone anxious to not miss their crowded train home to Jersey or the Island. You better not dawdle, or you’ll hear about it quite vociferously.

At some point, due to the need for speed and the lack of practice, my handwriting had deteriorated to the point where it was easier for me to just print when I needed to take notes or write something down. This meant I was only using cursive for my signature.

Without regular cursive practice, my signature degraded to the point where I would get asked if I was a doctor or something (doctors are notorious for quickly scribbled prescriptions that are barely legible).

Not being able to read your own writing is pretty bad. I had the kind of jobs where quick note-taking in meetings was essential; no way could I do that fast enough in cursive and still have it be legible.

Nowadays, the kids have laptops or tablets and type their notes in class or at work, but that wasn’t an option for us Baby Boomers. So are kids better off today with typing and not even trying to print or, God forbid, actually write in cursive?

I would argue that cursive writing is an essential skill that should be taught in schools and used more by adults. Ironically, cursive writing — that is writing without lifting the pen off the page — was intended to speed up the process of creating written information. By not lifting the pen you, theoretically, should write more quickly.

But, in my case, it’s just too easy to get sloppy unless I go really slowly. I can actually print using simple block letters much faster than I can write in cursive. I’m sure that’s not uncommon.

When you even see actual handwriting these days, which is as rare as the unicorn, it’s usually simple printed block letters. The use of good cursive script is a rarity.

The only time most of us ever deal with cursive writing anymore is when we sign our names. Some signatures are legible. Most are anything but. I can’t complain, because mine is just a scribble.

If you go to a book-signing, often the author’s signature will not be legible. However, if I had to sign my name 200 times in a row, unless I went excruciatingly slowly, mine would be illegible too. I’ll give authors a pass in this regard. It’s got to cramp your fingers to sign your name that often.

Speaking of authors, imagine all the classics like “Moby Dick,” “Walden,” “The Great Gatsby,” and so many more that were written with a quill, ink, and a yellow legal pad or something similar. How awesome is that?

When those authors needed to “cut and paste,” they literally got out the scissors, cut out a part of their draft, and pasted it somewhere else. Those of us who write with word processors have no idea how easy we have it. And I didn’t even mention spellcheck.

When my father was alive, we’d need him to sign various forms for insurance, benefits, etc. He never wrote anything in his whole life. Signing his name was the only time he used a writing instrument.

Incredibly, he thought that, if he didn’t sign his name perfectly, people would think he was stupid. So he always signed his name excruciatingly slowly, so he could get it right.

I mean, when he would start to sign his name, you could get up, pour yourself a cup of coffee, come back, and he’d still be on his first name. But let’s give him some credit, because at least he eventually got it.

There are some people who cannot sign their name at all and have to use “X” as their signature. That’s sad, really. We should have a literate society. The fact that we don’t is sad, to say the least.

If you want to see some beautiful handwriting, look at the Declaration of Independence. The gorgeous cursive writing, including the famous signature of John Hancock, is truly stunning and lends gravitas to this foundational and historic document.

How can anyone look at something so grand as this and then say we shouldn’t teach it to our kids? Kids, early on, need to be exposed to good penmanship. It’s a foundational skill. Remember “reading, writing, ’rithmatic?” There is no debate! Kids should learn to write in cursive, period.

My lovely wife has a long-time friend who does calligraphy. This is cursive writing on steroids. It’s handwriting and penmanship that is so beautiful it’s used on wedding invitations and other formal documents.

Safe to say calligraphy is art. That calligraphy is just really carefully done cursive writing — something that we should all be able to do — is amazing. Maybe we’re all artists if we just took the time to slow down, pay attention, and care.

My plan from here on out is to improve my signature so that it’s legible, no matter how long it takes me to do it. I’m also going to try to use cursive writing just for the sake of getting better. Maybe I’ll write my wife a love letter. I don’t know if she’ll be more surprised by the content or the cursive. We shall see.

— Photo from the Guilderland Historical Society

This cottage was once the residence of the toll-taker at Toll Gate Number 5 on the Plank Road. There would have been a gate across the road, which he opened for travelers once they paid their toll ranging from one-and-a-half cents to 28 cents depending on what was passing through. At night, the gate was locked. Certain times, a person went free: jury duty, church attendance, muster duty, going for a physician or going to the grist mill or blacksmith. This cottage was located on Route 146 near the town’s Winter Sports area, but on the opposite side of the road, taken down in the last decades of the 20th Century.

Navigating Route 146 from the Route 20-Hartman Corners intersection to Altamont takes minutes, depending on traffic. You are the latest of the peoples who have traveled in the same direction.

In centuries past, Native Americans threading their way through the wilderness that once covered the area created a network of trails. Their trails did not follow the shortest distance between points, but meandered along waterways avoiding difficult or swampy areas, choosing the easiest spot to ford streams.

When in 1712 German Palatines, refugees escaping war and religious persecution in their Rhineland home, traveled from Albany to Schoharie where the British allowed them to settle, they left Albany on the King’s Highway, once a trail through the Pine Bush.

At one of the taverns, most likely the Verraberg Tavern, they began to follow another trail leading in the direction of Schoharie. Entering what is now Guilderland, the trail followed a small stream that ran just to the east of what is now Hamilton Union Presbyterian Church until it reached the Hungerkill. These are among the first Europeans to pass through Guilderland.

“A Brief Sketch of the First Settlement of the County of Schoharie by the Germans,” written by Judge John M. Brown in 1823, based on accounts he had collected from older residents, was the first information in print regarding this route.

He wrote that, in the year 1712, “there were no other roads to Schoharie, but five Indian footpaths … the second, beginning at Albany, led over the Helleberg … to Schoharie at Foxendorf. This was the trail which the settlers traveled when they moved into Schoharie … On this route with very little variation later went the first Schoharie Road to Albany.”

Once the Palatines crossed the Hungerkill, they veered off to the right across the present golf course and Route 146 in the vicinity of Tawasentha Park. Swinging to the south they went down to the flats along the Normanskill where the trail forded the creek.

They continued around and over the hill coming out near the top and went through what is now Guilderland Center on as far as Osborn Corners, picking up Weaver Road and at the end continuing straight into Altamont and on up the escarpment through Knox and Berne to Schoharie.

Of course, this was all wilderness in 1712, but using modern names gives the idea of the route they followed.

Early documentation includes maps drawn by Captain William Gray for George Washington of “Road from Albany to Schoharie” and “Albany to Man’s Mill,” a location on Schoharie Creek. Indicating the meeting house, probably the log prayer house of the Helderberg Reformed Church, the maps show a road similar to Weaver Road.

This route was followed by the later settlers as people moved into Guilderland and beyond and became known as the Schoharie Road, the main road during most of the 18th Century.

A notice relating to a piece of Guilderland real estate in the Albany Register of July 14, 1812 reads, “… being in the Town of Guilderland, in the County of Albany, beginning at the southwest corner of the farm of Nicholas Van Patten and runs thence westerly along the Schoharie Road one hundred and sixty-three feet ….”

This shows that the road, called the Schoharie Road, was down on the flats near the Normanskill, which is near the end of modern-day Vosburgh Road. The location of the Van Patten farm is on the 1767 map of the West Manor of Rensselaerwyck.

If you have ever wondered why the Tories were hiding in and around the Van Patten barn in what seems like a very out-of-the-way spot at the time of the Battle of the Normanskill, his farm was on the road out of town and they were on their way to aid General John Burgoyne.

The Schoharie Road was a circuitous route, time-consuming in the later 18th-Century when farmers began shipping farm products to the Albany market when time on the road became an important factor.

When a more direct route across the Normanskill and up the hill evolved isn’t known, but a bridge across the Normanskill at the spot probably similar to the site of the current bridge can be documented.

In 1804, the second year of Guilderland’s town government, the town’s three road commissioners noted “the sum of Twenty-Three dollars which they have expended on the Bridge across the Normanskill at John Bankers ….”

The Bancker family had settled a farm along the Normanskill prior to 1734 and there is a New York State Historic Marker at the location along Route 146 today. The name became anglicized to Banker and successive bridges over the Normanskill and the hill beyond were informally called Banker Bridge and Banker Hill, later corrupted to Bunker Bridge and Hill, well into the 20th Century.

But, in 1804 did a road continue on up the hill as it does today? It’s probable a simple dirt road went to the top.

 

Plank Road

In 1849, the Schoharie-Albany Plank Road was chartered. Investors, including several Guilderland men, decided that it would be profitable to construct a turnpike made of planks laid over parallel wooden runners connecting the Great Western Turnpike with Schoharie.

In an era of cheap, plentiful wood, plank roads had become popular, offering a smoother ride than a dirt turnpike. For the convenience, travelers would pay tolls. With Toll Gate Number 5 located on Banker Hill, obviously the plank road followed the shortest way up the hill. The Schoharie Road fell into disuse except for a few local farmers.

Once cresting the hill, the Plank Road followed the route of the Schoharie Road into Guilderland Center. Note as you are approaching the overpass today that there is a New York State Historic Marker at Wagner Road, which veers off. That is the original route into Guilderland Center and the current overpass was placed to the north.

After passing through Guilderland Center, the Plank Road went up to Osborn Corners, picking up Weaver Road and then on into Altamont where it veered right on what is now Schoharie Plank Road. The Plank Road then went on up the escarpment similar to Route 146 today, and on to Knox and Schoharie. Toll Gate Number 4 was part way between Weaver Road and Altamont.

At first successful with a regular stagecoach running between Albany and Schoharie and much farm traffic, the Plank Road in time, had its planks rot. They became increasingly expensive to replace, causing profits to decline.

The finishing blow came in 1863 with the opening of the Albany & Susquehanna Railroad between Albany and Schoharie. The Plank Road was almost immediately out of business, but the route it followed continued to be the route used for local traffic into the 20th Century.

Once the automobiles came chugging along this very poor road, they were facing a challenge with poor road surface and some nasty turns, including the one onto what is now Weaver Road at its upper end. 

Early in the 20th Century, New York state stepped in to do some simple upkeep on the main highways. In 1907, an irate Guilderland Center resident complained in The Enterprise about an automobile traveling through the village “at a velocity of speed that would put a western cyclone to blush, giving people on their way to church a good bath of state-road grit.”

In addition to curves, there was the dangerous grade-level railroad crossing in Guilderland Center where two area men were killed in the early 1920s when they pulled in front of an oncoming train. This problem was solved in 1927 when the overpass was built slightly to the north of the original crossing.

 

Pavement

Finally, in May 1929, the news appeared on page one of The Enterprise announcing “State Plans For New Altamont-Hartmans Road” to be 20 feet wide of reinforced concrete. It would run straight instead of following Weaver Road with a new bridge built over the Black Creek.

The Banker Bridge would be replaced with a steel and concrete structure with a 155-foot span and width between the curbs of 30 feet. There would be a new intersection with Hartmans Corners, which would curve around coming out to the turnpike just west of the Case homestead, years later the site of the M&M Motel. This was supposed to replace a sharp turn and poor visibility.

A few months later, in October 1929, a notice appeared requesting bids for highway improvement for the highway leading out of Altamont east through Guilderland Center to Hartman’s Corners on the Cherry Valley Turnpike.

“This highway has needed reconstruction for some time and the improvement will be welcomed by the traveling public,” the notice said.

Of the 17 bids for construction that were submitted, Lane Construction Corp. of Connecticut would be doing the work. Its winning bid for this stretch of road was $264,132.40.

Within a week, the New York State Department of Transportation was surveying to locate the new highway, eliminating the turn off Weaver Road, running the road straight down “Church Hill.” The name dates back to the 19th Century when St. James Lutheran Church was once located at the top of Weaver Road.

In addition, other sharp curves were to be eliminated including the one at Osborn Corners where the road swung in front of the one-room school. The road, instead, would go straight behind the rear of the school.

April 1930 brought construction crews to town. Their first job was to clear trees along where the road would be widened.

By June, the construction company had begun laying cement and was expected to reach the railroad bridge in Guilderland Center within the week. Two weeks later, all concrete had been put down between Altamont and work would soon begin on the steelwork on the new Bunker Bridge.

Finally, the Aug. 29 Enterprise announced the opening of the “new concrete highway that is one of the finest pieces of engineering to be seen in this part of the country. One may now drive from Altamont to Guilderland in less than 15 minutes, over road as smooth as a parlor floor.”

If ever you are driving Route 146 at a low-traffic time, recall that before you Native Americans hunting or trading, desperate Huguenots trudging to Schoharie, early settlers establishing farms, Patriots and Tories at war with each other, a clattering stage coach carrying passengers, early motorists racing through at 15 or 20 miles per hour all were here before you, and in a few spots over exactly the same stretch of road.

Realize that even this mundane strip of highway has a long and rich history.