It wasn’t a huge deal, the damaged deck, but it was a deal, and it shouldn’t have happened

Eli: Your insistence on ignoring community rules endangers property and people.

Simmy: My kids are not the ones putting anyone in danger.

Eli

There’s something about the country.

Even before I got out of the car, I could feel it. Nechami was breathing deeply, eyes half-closed and a smile playing on her lips. The kids, of course, were clambering over each other to get out of the car, eager to run free in the grass, see their friends again, and live the glorious country life again for two whole months.

I start to unload the car, parking various suitcases and packages beside the wraparound deck of our bungalow. Then I notice the part of the railing where the wood was splintered and partially broken. I frowned. How had I forgotten to take care of that before we left last year? It didn’t look nice, and it wasn’t particularly safe for little kids either.

One thing to mar the perfection of the moment, apparently. And we’d had the deck built new last year, too.

I sighed. It wasn’t a huge deal, the damaged deck, but it was a deal, and it shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have, if not for the kids who rode golf carts like they were scooters, like they were kiddie toys instead of a vehicle that had to be handled responsibly.

And last year, there had been far too many incidents like that.

S

ummit Meadows was pretty new, but had been around enough time that everyone here pretty much knew each other. Most of us were in the same stage and age range, it was a great group of families, and there were none of the uncomfortable politics or disagreements that can make summer community life… uncomfortable.

Or there never had been. Until last year.

It started small, a family here or there letting their teens run errands on the golf carts. And of course, the boys who had brought along electric bikes and scooters and were eager to take off into the wide expanse of grass.

But somehow, as families grew older, riding on golf carts became a social activity, and the groups flying around on e-bikes or scooters only got bigger. The trend had turned from a minor inconvenience to a genuine danger.

The kids wouldn’t just drive the golf carts, they’d party on them. They’d hang from the seats, the trunk, the roof, blaring music as they ripped past at all hours of the day and night. They’d veer off the paths and around the younger kids on their bikes and race each other across the grounds.

The golf carts were the worst, but the other crazes were not the safest either, especially late at night. Electric scooters going at top speed down the main road — often with the riders sans helmets — were a real risk, to themselves and to others. There were plenty of narrow misses when cars turned corners or people crossed the path just as a teen on an electric scooter shot past.

Invariably, someone would try to stop them, sometimes averting an accident in the nick of time. But nothing helped. The kids would slow down momentarily and then go right back to their joyrides.

The collision into our deck had happened right at the end of the summer. I couldn’t even remember which kids it was; that didn’t interest me. I wasn’t looking to blame or make someone pay for the damage. Honestly, the golf cart probably sustained more damage than our deck did. But I did send a picture around the Summit chat with a voice note explaining what had happened, and why we needed to prevent this in the future.

Everyone had agreed — with some (probably the parents of the kids involved) sounding particularly apologetic.

Next summer we’ll be more on top of this. No kids behind the wheel, one person wrote.

Agreed, came the general chorus of responses.

Well, next summer was here.