Despite a lack of visitors to my apartment these days - it's hot and I'm mildly ashamed of it - I never lack for traffic. Across Delaware Avenue and a steep nameless creek runs the nonstop flow of Interstate 40-W, tens of thousands of passersby clogging the lanes at all hours.
Back in Columbus, highways were strictly background noise. I-71 and state Route 315 were both more than a mile away, so all the engine and tire noise coalesced into a strangely ambient noise occasionally punctuated by trains or police helicopters (not they have an iota of ambiance, even when the searchlight twirls past the windows).
In the last few weeks construction vehicles have churned up pavement to the west, closing lanes at night and junking an ancient pedestrian bridge deep in two bordering neighborhoods (seriously, the thing was difficult to access). Nights have brought endless caravans of crawling hulks, their running lights drifting past until the wee hours when the construction crews pack up for morning rush hour.
Sure, the highway is loud, and has essentially rendered my front porch useless for gatherings of more than a few people.
But I can't take my eyes away from the traffic. All those lives hurtling toward Memphis and other points west, or stopping two exits up in Bellevue. I don't know where they're going anymore than I know where I'm going. Some don't make it that far - some lives might have ended between glass, metal and pavement, with the sirens bearing down on the fresh wrecks. Police patrols collect their share, since the speed limit clings to 55 for another mile past the house.
I too wonder how many commuters/vacationers stare out at the houses. I'm not convinced, since I have no memory of staring at the Nashville scenery when my family drove through when bound for Memphis in 1998. A family spat had consumed most of my attention, and the little corner house from 1910 probably garnered a glance or less.
How long will visions of the highway fill the bedroom window? With 2010 poised as a make or break year for Job #1, I don't want the weight of a mortgage. If I have to downsize, that would be trouble. I can't say I'll miss that 9-lane interchange when I go, but I'm glad I know longer have to scrounge for positives. So for now, I just enjoy the highway, and keep counting lives that can't pass by fast enough.
1 comment:
I always look at the houses when I'm on the interstate and wonder what they think about having a freeway in their back yard. I like to imagine I'm zipping through dangerous neighborhoods.
In addition, I think about the people in the cars when I'm driving at odd hours... a weekday at 2 a.m., for example (as rare as that happens). How can so many people have somewhere to go at that time? Where are they going, anyway?
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