|Somewhere down the Delaware River in a sleepy, little (not so little) town north of Philly sits a really big landfill owned by Waste Management Corporation. The story here isn’t necessarily about them, but rather, the club.
When I was a kid, we occasionally trespassed there, swam in the coves, fished the waters, biked and made a ruckus. Why would anyone care? It now sits next to one of the largest landfills in the region. It’s like a little campground next to a mountain of trash. Actually, it is a little private park next to a mountain of trash. Yep, private. Recently a few buddies and I rode our bikes from NYC towards Philly, and en route, detoured through a bit of the grounds on a cold winter day. A security detail ran us down and threatened us a bit to chase us off the grounds. When I asked where we could get a day pass, he said we couldn’t as if we were hoodlums cycling from NYC in full Lycra to terrorize the grounds which were shut down for winter.
When I was a kid, before the mountain of trash came, when it was all woods between the Delaware and Tullytown, I wanted my parents to get a membership there. It was prestigious, so I thought. My dad replied, “Why would we ever rent a seasonal campsite a mile from our house when we could go to Vermont or Canada?”
I didn’t see it. Now I do. Silly place that Penn Warner Park.