A weekend trip south of the border had me longing for the brisk pace of the Colwood Crawl and the peace, order and courteous driving that characterizes rush hour on Douglas Street.
As the crow flies, we didn鈥檛 have far to go, but a crow would have had the sense to reserve a spot on the Port Angeles ferry. We couldn鈥檛 get onto the Coho at the last minute, so we headed up the Peninsula and drove right onto the Tsawwassen ferry, the last car on for that sailing.
That was the end of our good luck. A significant percentage of the population of British Columbia, it seemed, was trying to cross the border simultaneously.
But it was a sunny day, and the long wait was relieved by the halftime show.
As we inched forward and stopped to leave an intersection clear, Vehicle A came into said intersection from the duty-free shop, but an SUV on our left had moved into the intersection, leaving Vehicle A stranded and unable to cross to the northbound lanes. Vehicle B came up aggressively behind Vehicle A and honked vigorously, even though there was nothing Vehicle A could do.
When honking failed to levitate vehicles out of his way, the driver of Vehicle B got out and pounded on the window of Vehicle A, insisting loudly that Driver A move ahead because Driver B had a doctor鈥檚 appointment. Driver B didn鈥檛 ask the offending SUV to back up, perhaps because the SUV was adorned with a team logo and carried several athletic young men who didn鈥檛 look easily intimidated.
When Driver A politely explained there was nothing he could do, Driver B augmented his logic with a generous sprinkling of traditional Anglo-Saxon expressions of frustration and several theological terms wholly unrelated to religion. It didn鈥檛 seem to occur to him that the power of words, while formidable, doesn鈥檛 usually extend to untangling gridlocks.
The fuss attracted the attention of the driver of Vehicle C on our right, who joyfully entered the fray by explaining to Driver B that he was barking at the wrong car, but to keep it up anyway 鈥� it helped pass the time. That sent B into a further frenzy, and it seemed fisticuffs would be the next phase, but alas, a couple of cars moved, the intersection cleared and the fuss was over.
No such entertainment awaited us as we stopped-and-started our way through Seattle, with more stopping than starting. We had taken the 405 alternate route, thinking it would be less hectic and a little faster than staying on Interstate 5.
A couple of hundred thousand other drivers seemed to have made that same decision. We had hoped to avoid the sarcastically named rush hour, but that time was long past when we reached the point where we could drive at highway speeds again.
I calculate that our 10-hour trip included more than five hours of sitting stationary. Suddenly, the commute along the Trans-sa国际传媒 Highway seems a breeze, a mere eyeblink. At least the traffic usually keeps moving, the scenery is always pleasant and other drivers are generally accommodating.
That鈥檚 not reason for complacency, though. Just because Victoria鈥檚 traffic isn鈥檛 as bad as Seattle鈥檚 doesn鈥檛 mean it鈥檚 good. It would be greatly improved if we could steal two or three of Seattle鈥檚 many interchanges and install them at places such as Admirals Road and Sayward Road.
Infrastructure alone isn鈥檛 the solution 鈥� things such as mass transit and cycling routes should be part of the equation 鈥� but a comprehensive regional plan involving all levels of governments is needed, and that plan should include some overpasses.
Sure, that kind of construction seems expensive, but playing catch-up will be even more costly.
Traffic here is a minor problem compared to that in Seattle, but unless something is done to make it better, it will only get worse.
