Ribbons of Concrete

Interstates are an institution. Being the largest public works program ever undertaken in the world, the American Society of Civil Engineers have named these "ribbons of concrete" -- as an online source cheerfully called the system -- one of the "Seven Wonders of the United States" (other accredited wonders include the Hoover Dam and the Golden Gate Bridge). \nUsually six lanes, but up to 10, they are massive transit belts that wrap the country in 43,000 miles of bitumen. Bends are all but eliminated to ensure drivers are not taxed by the inconvenience of having to adjust their stirring wheels. Indeed, I suspect you could turn on cruise control, tie the steering wheel to the window crank and doze off with little resulting drama. \nAs a side note, this straight-as-an-arrow feature is not purely about driver comfort. A friend assures me that all interstates under Eisenhower's initial directive are required to have regular mile-long sections straight enough to land a bomber.\nJust in case.\nAdmittedly, I struggled to verify this fact through a more reliable source, but another knowledgeable person at a different bar was willing to vouch for the statement's authenticity.\nThe interstate experience is, in most respects, a homogenized and impersonal one. There is little opportunity to appreciate the local communities undoubtedly passed, but invisible beyond the embankment. The roadside is littered with billboards and fast-food signs telescoping into the sky in their attempt to compete with each other in alluring you down an exit ramp. When taken, these amours usually consist of a quick bash into a gas station or sitting impatiently at a drive-through.\nBut a recent trip across Kentucky revealed something more than banality.\n"Say friend, where're you going in such a hurry?"\nThe question turned my head from the line of traffic stretching off into the distance to a car idling in the next lane. \n"Knoxville." \nMy response got a smile and a thumbs-up, and he ambled on with the rest of the traffic in his lane. Later, after the road had opened up once more, I saw him again and we exchanged waves as I passed.\nThe interstate system carries nearly 60,000 people per route-mile everyday. But, despite the number of people sharing the road, it is surprising how familiar the faces around you can become on a long drive. For example, I had noticed my inquisitive friend back at Lexington, partly because his bumper was apparently secured to the back of his car with duct tape, but also from having already overtaken him several times that day.\nIt may be a poor modern comparison to the Keroucian experience, but there is still an interesting sociology in long-distance driving that seems to be unique to the interstate. While heading to their respective destinations, motorists can often find themselves sharing a common pocket of humanity. This is immediately obvious during traffic jams, where there is little else to do but stare at other glum faces (or entertain yourself with shouted conversations with nearby drivers). Indeed, a sense of camaraderie can develop. \nBut it is during times when the traffic is readily flowing and the pocket of shifting vehicles more dynamic, that the persistence of this phenomenon is most unexpected.\nIf forced to join the masses on the interstate system rather than contemplate the blandness of America so evident along the roadside, look to the other motorists and participate in the sociological experiment that is the interstate. \nIf nothing else, there are some sights to be had.