In the (Construction) Zone

Snohomish gets a new roundabout

When I saw that they were going to shut down a three-mile stretch of Highway 9, I was pretty excited. Not only were we getting a new traffic circle—wait, roundabout—on our local north-south secondary road, but for several days there would be no traffic at all on this road that passes within earshot of our back porch. Closed road = invitation to explore!

I got up early Saturday morning to walk up the road to get a look at the construction zone.

I know there were a bunch of signs, but I figured they’re for cars, not pedestrians. So I ventured up the on-ramp and peered down the empty road.

It was so cool to have it all to myself! Pretty soon I’m basking in my own little encounter with the space-time continuum: at car speeds, this piece of road goes by in a flash, but at a walking pace it stretches on forever, by blackberry bushes, a small forest, and a quiet little creek. Usually I zip by, but at this pace it all slows down.

Then I heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the road behind me. A big green Granite Construction pickup truck pulled up alongside me, the lady inside eying me suspiciously. When I waved and gave her a big smile, she rolled down her window.

“I bet you’re wondering what the heck I’m doing,” I offered.

“You could say that,” she said warily. When I explained that I lived along the road and just wanted to see what the road felt like with no cars on it, she laughed and said, “I’m just so glad you’re a normal person.”

“I see a lot of weirdos,” said Mindy (not her real name), who introduced herself as the TCS. When I cocked my head quizzically, she said: “Traffic Construction Supervisor.”

“You never know who you find wandering in construction zones,” she said. Once she assessed my relative sanity we had a nice chat and I told her how interested I was in the construction project they were working on.

“Well, you know you can’t go near it,” she said.

“Oh yeah, I figured, I just want to get within sight, see how it’s coming,” I replied.

“Well get in,” she said, “I’ll drive you down real close.”

She took me right to the edge of the action, and we had a good chat about their progress: they were three hours behind at this point, she told me, but they thought they’d be able to catch up. (They did.)

She started a story, “Back in the wilder days ….” (I conjured up her crazy early days in construction.) “ … I mean, when we were called Wilder Construction …”

I told her that it reminded me of the newish song by the Drive-By Truckers, and we talked about music a bit, and then she offered to drive me back, but I told her I’d just as soon walk. I hummed a song as I walked.

The bend looked so cool and long on foot. Sinuous.

The new houses they were building across the way were so close to the road. Noisy!

Soon, I was back to my “exit.”

On Monday, after the weekend closure, Sara and I drove up to check it out. I know my British readers will think I’m a goof, but I really do love a roundabout. When they work right they’re such a beautiful dance. Of course, these are Washington drivers, famously satirized in the Pemco commercial from 2010:

We don’t always get roundabouts right, but when we do, it’s so satisfying. Here’s my first trip through:

If you’re one of those people who can’t quite get the hang of roundabouts, the Washington State Department of Transportation has done a really decent job of explaining how they work. But it boils down to this: people in the roundabout have the right of way. Remember that one point and you’ll get the rest.