Loud engine
by
Neighbors say they have called metro codes multiple times. Neighbors say Metro Codes has had no answers.
Neighbors say they have repeatedly called Metro Police. Police confirm they have been to this Hermitage neighborhood known as the Bonnas dozens of times, but so far there is nothing that police say they can do.
Neighbors say they call their Metro Councilman Bruce Stanley. They call him on Saturday mornings to let him hear the roar of the race car engine.
Bruce Stanley says he has talked to police and sent letters to codes and has visited the neighborhood and so far Stanley has been unable to make the excessive noise stop.
With no where else to turn, truck driver and father of four, Rodney Bartholomew calls that’s messed up.
Bartholomew has lived in this neighborhood for close to a dozen years.
For close to a dozen years, Bartholomew says the man across the fence in his back yard cranks up the engine of his demolition race car and revs the engine.
On this day birds are chirping and the tranquil sounds of the Zen garden fill the pleasant calm in Bartholomew’s back yard.
“You told me that this started when your little girl was in elementary school, and your little girl is now in college,” I state.
Bartholomew speaks quietly and his words chosen carefully. “That’s right.”
“Have you gone over and talked to the guy and ask why are you revving this car?”
Bartholomew pauses for a moment and tells me about an incident when he first moves into the neighborhood. There was a problem over a fence. He might have attached it to the race car driver’s side. The race car driver protested. Bartholomew says it was uncomfortable and he took the fence down.
“When we had the deal with the fence I was done with him,” Bartholomew says matter of fact.
Bartholomew takes me into his home. He leads me to a large screen TV and he pushes play.
A video comes on. I hear Mr. Bartholomew narrating. The super on the screen says: May 3rd 10:20 am. Bartholomew is taking me on a tour of his property. He shows the garden and his deck and the children’s play house. He talks about Saturday morning after Saturday morning, year after year. Like clock work, he knows the sound is going to come. He predicts it is just a matter of time.
VROOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!
Almost on cue, through jittery camera work, pointing toward the source of his consternation, you hear the cacophonous thunder of a high octane engine. At first it roars, then it consumes more fuel and the accelerator forces open the hungry carburetor. The thunder intensifies into rapid pulses, shrieking sonic booms, like an platoon of M-16’s firing indiscriminately. If there was a DB meter pointed at the tree line, it would have burst.
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