The wheels on the bus...

A news report I saw yesterday got me thinking about things that rotate.  When I was very young  my father took me to a round house to see the way huge engines were rotated on a round table so they could head back the way they came.  I was impressed.  Some years later, when my brother was eight years old, he fell off a playground merry-go-round (only two feet off the ground) and broke his elbow,  He was in an upper body cast for most of that long, hot summer.  Things that rotate can be dangerous.  I have a small rotating item, a lazy Susan, on my dining room table.  My friend Susan really hates that name,  I have a similar aversion to the phrase loosey goosey, but I digress.  The report I saw on TV, about places to visit in Indiana, focused on a rotary jail.  I had never heard of such a thing, but there were evidently several of them around the country at one time.  Ours, now a museum, in Crawfordsville, is evidently the only one that still rotates.  It is a two-story structure with wedge shaped cells on both levels.  The jail was supposed to provide greater security because a jail cell could only be opened when it was rotated around to one open space.  There were bars at the front of each cell, and evidently they gave up on rotating jails when too many prisoners got arms and fingers caught as it was rotated. Didn't they give them any warning? I'm thinking I want to take a road trip to visit this rotary jail when such things are possible again.