Editorial 1.4, April 1999, by Deirdre Helfferich Happy Cars: A Cautionary Word Ah, the joys of motorized transport! Speeding down the roads, kicking up deadly little pebbles aimed at pedestrians and bicyclists, roaring along broad avenues in the dead of winter with no wind chill factor (that is, if your heater is working)! And amazingly, getting places in minutes that would take days if you had to walk. Really astonishing, the automobile. I learned to drive late in life, but when I finally did, I was both terrified of the destructive potential of the machine I controlled and elated at the independence it gave me. I could drive, and so I was free. When it comes to vehicular tyranny, Alaska isn't nearly as bad as the rest of the U.S., where they have so many cars on the roads that it's actually possible to have a fifty-car accident. But in 1994, when I returned from a six-year absence, the Last Frontier looked shockingly like the Lower 48, only without the sidewalks, bike paths, and public transportation. Lots and lots of happy, happy cars going ZOOM! on giant new highways with no unpleasantness such as trees to obstruct the view of all those squat new storage places. The Johansen Expressway had appeared. Davis Road had somehow become a dinky little back street to the Mitchell Expressway. Geist and Chena Pump had become the Geist/Chena Superhighway. At least in places like Seattle, the non-driver has some choices. But here? Two bus routes. A few ill-kempt bike paths. In Alaska, where tthe scenery and the pure air are major tourist attractions, we seem bent on creating a replica of the colossal error that is the road system of the Lower 48. Road designers plan for safety and functionality for drivers. Very wide streets with broad shoulders, smoothly paved surfaces, extra turn lanes, large turning radii at intersections, plenty of directional signs with no obstructions to clear viewing, a minimum of crossroads: all contribute toward better driving. but a street designed with these elements is not necessarily a good thing. For a person on foot, it takes longer to cross a wide street, which increases the risk involved. It isn't too safe to cross a road where the speed limit is 35 to 55 miles an hours, so pedestrians have to take roundabout ways, ither up to the next intersection or to the next overpass, and then back again. It isn't pleasant to walk on a sidewalk where no trees or bushes can soften the scenery or act as wind breaks. And it certainly isn't safe to walk on a sidewalk perched only inches from tons of steel on wheels going at outrageous speeds. broad, multi-laned streets divide neighborhoods and force people to take to their cars if they want to get anywhere, and so actually create more traffic. This summer's planned expansion of the intersection of College and University will join UAF's old main entrance with the widened and improved College Road (six lanes at the intersection). I fear that this people-friendly little corner of town is going to be crushed under the wheels of progress. It will be great for zipping through, but lousy for hanging out, and those unfortunate souls who don't have cars had better make sure that they are on the same side of the street as the ones they love before construction ends, because they won't get across that no man's land alive once the traffic starts. But I live in Ester, not College or Fairbanks or L.A., and we don't have to worry about that kind of problem out here. Or do we? Village Road was resurfaced and widened last summer, and now traffic goes just a little bit faster there. And the speed chuckholes along Main Street that help give the dogs and kids time to get out of the way of drivers have been getting filled in on a disturbingly regular basis. At least our local Road Commission is an approachable bunch of neighbors, not some faceless transportation bureau, so I have an opportunity to make my two cents mean something. I like skinny, twisty dirt roads and the trees that tend to line them, and I like to be able to take my time crossing the street. It's a human way to live. Road maintenance is a good thing (I don't claim to love washboards), but the wellbeing of cars is not supposed to be the main object. Happy people are more important than happy cars. | ||
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