Roundabouts Are Not That F’ing Hard

Not that long ago, not that far from where I live, our community was presented with the opportunity to fix an inconvenient and dangerous intersection. It had been rural, once, and in those days the knot of roads where an interstate off-ramp, two frontage roads and a truck stop parking lot convene could simply be left uncontrolled. The people just kind of sorted it out. It was nice.

But the as these things go more folks showed up and started living and driving around. We turned the lumber mill into a bitcoin mine and built a concert venue next to the elementary school, and eventually that inconvenient tangle turned into a deadly mess. It was time to fix this thing.

So the egghead engineers showed up with their graph paper and their slide rules and their pocket protectors and pretty soon were like, “Yep! The best, safest, most efficient thing here is a roundabout. No doubt about it. Let’s get to work.” And that was all well and good until it was time to spend a few public bucks on on a public infrastructure project and we had to listen to the public. Ugh. The Public. They’re the worst. Seriously.

Roundabouts: not that fucking hard.

Because what came next can probably fairly be described as a shitstorm. In coffee shops, public scoping meetings, and comments sections all around western Montana la gente was incensed. Roundabouts are just the kind of vaguely European improvement that comes on the leading edge of the Agenda 21 death camps and deportations, remember. Roundabouts are European. Mussolini was European. Do you really need me to connect the dots? It turns out that the only thing rural America hates more than a roundabout is Hillary Clinton, and anymore I’m not even sure about that.

And so sure enough the traffic circle was torpedoed in the face of overwhelming scientific consensus on the basis of what amounts to “I might have to learn something new and that makes me uncomfortable.”

Because the evidence is ironclad. Roundabouts are safer than traffic lights. Roundabouts are more efficient than traffic lights. Roundabouts are cheaper than traffic lights. Roundabouts can easily be built to easily accommodate large trucks. And to their credit, in my experience even the most virulent of haters will concede, when presented with the overwhelming body of evidence, that fine, sure, maybe roundabouts would be ok if only everyone else had any idea how to use them. It seems there is a problem of widespread ignorance in America today.

And so I’d like to take this moment, in preparation for the nearly completed compound roundabout [clutches pearls] in town here, to point out that roundabouts are not that fucking hard. Here are a few pointers on how they work.

How To Use A Roundabout

(It’s Not That Fucking Hard)

  1. Slow the Fuck Down – Yes, traffic circles are way more efficient than traffic lights. That doesn’t mean you don’t have to tap the brakes. You will see the damn thing coming, just, like, chill for one goddamn second and slow your roll as you approach.
  2. Look to Your Fucking Left* – Think of it this way: a roundabout is not an intersection – it’s a very tiny, circular, one-way street. So unlike an intersection, you do not yield to the person on your right. This is indicated by the triangle signs that say “YIELD” as you approach the circle. So look to your left. If no one’s there, do your thing. If someone is there, please don’t hit them.
  3. Don’t Fucking Stop – But let’s reiterate that that sign says “YIELD.” It does not say “STOP.” So really, if no one is there just slide on into the circle. If you slam on the brakes for no reason you’ll probably get rear ended by someone who knows how this works. And once you’re in there, that’s it, no more stopping. You’ve taken the circle, it’s yours. Move along.
  4. Get the Fuck Out – That traffic circle isn’t yours forever, though, so when you’re done just get the fuck out of there. Don’t let anyone else in. If they’re not in the middle part, they yield to you.
  5. Use Your Fucking Turn Signal – No one is keeping track of where you entered the circle, and where you’re headed, except for you. So you need to let people know what your intentions are. You know, like any time you turn, or change lanes, right? RIGHT**? But here’s the thing, remember how it’s not really an intersection? It’s a tiny, cute, little one-way? There is no way to turn left out of a traffic circle (unless you’ve really fucked up). Once you are in the intersection the use of your left turn signal will serve no purpose but to confuse people and make them hate (and possibly run into) you. As you’re approaching your exit from the circle, throw your right blinker on and get the fuck out.
  6. That’s It – That’s it. You’re done. It’s not that fucking hard.

* Well, yeah, this all goes backwards in the UK, Australia, probably Singapore or something, but let’s face it: if you’re really that worried about roundabouts you probably don’t get abroad that often.

**I digress.

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It Doesn’t Matter that that Cyclist is a Jerk

You’ve seen it. You’re on your way to work, stuck in traffic (bumper to bumper, always), probably going to be late. So late you’ve got your coffee with you, and a breakfast sandwich, and you’re generally crawling your way to the office and checking in on Twitter, Snapchat, whatever. It’s taking forever. It’s the worst.

Then out of the corner of your eye is this dickhead. He’s on his bike, flying the wrong way through traffic. He’s got coffee in one hand and his phone in the other (Tindr, probably), and he’s gripping an Egg McMuffin between his teeth. He’s wearing headphones and dressed all in black and you’re lucky you even saw him at all.

What a jerk. You’d better not hit him.

Because when we climb into our cars in the morning we assume a position of power on the roadways; whether we think about it or not, by choosing* a car to get from Point A to Point B we assert control over the lives of others. A fatal collision between a motorist and a cyclist is always the fault of the motorist because they assume the responsibility of the vehicle when they get behind the wheel.

A drunk driver is responsible for their actions in spite of impaired decision making and reaction time because they made the decision to begin drinking and then drove. In the same way, a sober driver is morally culpable for harm they cause (even when the events that lead to that harm are beyond their control), by virtue of having left the house in a 6,000lb weapon in the first place.

We as Americans have a nasty habit of justifying the moral failings of those with power by pointing to the moral failings of those without. We do this when point to “riots” after unarmed black men are murdered by police, and again when those police are acquitted or never charged. We do this when we excuse the human rights violations by our allies in Gaza with valid criticism of Hamas policy, politics, and attacks. And we do this when we clamber to place blame on cyclists killed by the fashion accessories of the wealthy.

When we are presented with a choice (and if you are reading this driving is a choice) and elect a position of physical power we are responsible for the ramifications of wielding that power. When we reach for the keys, we should understand that if we are sitting still at a red light and are struck by a texting cyclist, we created the conditions of their injury by selecting a weapon for transportation. It’s on us.

Placing blame on the powerless to excuse our own laziness or vanity may be an American tradition, but it’s a bad look. Think about it before you leave the house.

*Philosophy students may raise an eyebrow at the use of the word “choice” here, which opens its own whole bag of worms. I’m comfortable with it here, but fire away, please!

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Ugh More Self-Righteous Bike Talk

“Ugh,” you are, at this point, almost certainly thinking. “Another self-righteous blog post about bicycles. Just what the internet needs. Great.”

By now the audience has reduced by half (at least) as the rest of those folks navigated away to go look for FailBlog videos or something with baby animals exploring playground equipment. And I get it, you’ve all heard this diatribe before, and besides cyclists are just so damn annoying. That’s really it, at the end of the day.

Just this morning I was almost pasted by some guy hopping onto the sidewalk from riding toward oncoming traffic during rush hour. What a dickhead. And if you’re still reading you obviously know that all cyclists aren’t like that guy, and obviously as that happened he and I were both passed by like 20 people texting and driving on their way to work, but damn, he almost got me.

And hell, even the good cyclists are a pain in the neck. They’re all over the roads that they don’t even pay for, zigging and zagging and carrying on. And if you can look past the film of human grease they’ve accumulated from exercising while commuting and their lewd pants you’ll probably get splashed as you pass them with inches to spare because they’re all just drenched with smug*. They’re the worst. I get it.

But what I don’t get about folks who openly hate cyclists or tacitly endorse that aggression by driving when they shouldn’t is how else they see this playing out.

Because, like, there are a lot of us, people, you know? And then every day there are a few more. And we’re all pretty much going to the same place – stores, stores, restaurants, whatever. And traffic is already pretty bad, right? That’s what I hear. So have a seat and use your imagination for a minute, really. How do you see this going?

Here’s a couple ideas for how it’s probably not going to go:

  • Magical Autonomous Subterranean Hyperloop Super Cars
    These are not going to save us. Sorry. Elon Musk and his ilk have continually shown that in driving innovation the technology industry is exceptional at creating value for shareholders, and not quite as good at solving problems that are measured by human lives, or goodness, or really anything other than currency. They are, however, pretty good at inventing problems for which they have a patent on the solution.
  • Flying Cars
    File this with with the tunnel cars.
  • Back to the Old Days
    Certainly to the chagrin of your grandfather and right-wing whackjob uncle who thinks our economy should still work like it’s 1890, things are not going to go back to the good ol’ days, when you never had to sit in traffic and a gallon of milk cost a nickle.
  • Nuclear Winter
    Shoot actually this one might just play out. And it’ll look a lot like the old days, the wild west, I guess, but you’ll pay for things with ears or teeth or something and probably eat babies, if Cormac McCarty knows anything.
  • Gradually Numbing Our Perception of What Is An Acceptable Distance to Sit in Our Cars, Isolated by Glass and Air Conditioning and Podcasts from Our Communities, as We Increasingly Sprawl and Pave the Interstices between Cities and Towns and We Find that Eventually We Have Created a Kind of Infinite Strip Mall of Mega-Box Stores and Build-a-Bears and Office Parks and Office Park Parking Lots and We Have No Choice to Meet Our Basic Needs than to Sit in a Car for 45 (60? 90!) Minutes at a Time to Simply Buy Lettuce or Something, or Even Worse it Becomes So That the Horror of Doing So is Insurmountable and So We Order Our Lettuce on the Internet and Never Feel That The Cost – Financial, Emotional, ETC – Is Worth Leaving Home and We Further Insulate Ourselves from Each Other and Simply Maintain “Communities” Through AOL Instant Messenger, or Whatever, So that this Virtual Community Usurps Actual Community as a Tenet of Our Values and We as a Species Shrivel and Withdraw and Do Not Expire By Way of (the now curiously intriguing) Nuclear Winter but Simply Cease to Exist in Any Meaningful Way.
    Phoenix, in other words. Shoot that’s already a thing.

And suddenly the idea that conserving space in our cities, towns, and communities by leaving behind the 6,000 pound handbags that we use to put off retirement and murder people just doesn’t seem that crazy. It is one of two logical progressions of how our communities will develop.

Transportation problems are not ones that need a new invention. We have it, and stamp them out for a few hundred dollars a piece. Cars, obviously, are not going anywhere (and nor should they, they’re great), but we need to stop thinking of them as the norm, and start thinking of them as the exception. Without this kind of shift in how we leave the house, we will continue to literally pave the way to living in an asphalt hellscape.

Bicycle evangelists are about as annoying as all the other kinds of evangelists, and so we can be easy to write off. But the premise is unassailable: the only path to livable communities is through a collective embrace of sustainable transportation – buses and bikes.

*I hear only diesel fumes can get it off you.

Pugs

Pugs, the dogs, are a bit like like Juggalos: it is only once you welcome one into your life that you begin to grasp their ubiquity. They are the newfound darlings of the meme world, usurping the throne from corgis and grouchy cats, but never doubt their everpresence or durability as a cultural icon.

The pug is the hero of underdogs everywhere. They are bred to a disadvantage and still they prosper, like a worldwide sleeper cell network of whatever the hell Jabba the Hut was. They represent a natural, bred aristocracy, and carry themselves with an aloof kind of dignity that can only be wrought from some divine preference. They are our rightful rulers, our philosopher kings, our benevolent dictators, and they know it.

Almost made it.

You see they began their history as the lap dogs of emperors – they are an ancient breed – and were reared among luxurious furnishings and a complement of armed guards. This is an expectation the dogs seem to have retained.

And good on them, I suppose, because their very existence is a cruelty. We have bred from them every defense mechanism. They cannot see, flee, or fight. Instead to survive they must, at all times, be within arm’s reach of human being, lest they be snatched away by a cougar, or coyote, or seagull.

They have been selected for distinctive looks and an authoritarian demeanor that passes for personality. They are predisposed to a slow metabolism, horrible breathing, prolapsed eyeballs, infected rolls, and we did this to them for our own comfort and amusement. Shame on us. We deserve to live beneath the mini-Machiavellis that we have created.

This used to be a wolf.

You see because it as been said a pug cannot be trained. In my experience this is not the case. It is not that a pug can’t be trained, as much as it won’t be trained. Sit, says you; go fuck yourself, says he. And then he turns the tables.

Make me a lap, pleb, and I will sit upon it, and you will pet me and keep me warm and safe from owls and believe that it was you who said come sit here but no, no it was I, the architect of your misery. And now I am hungry. Feed me human, feed me not only kibble but also shower me with praise not for what I have done but for who I am, your lord The Pug. You, too, will believe this soon.

The gaslighting little fuckers.

And from beneath their tiny iron fists, it is easy to forget that pugs are dogs. In spite of their ample, tender underbellies, in spite of their low position in the food chain, in spite of their intrinsic disdain for humanity, they descended from wolves once. And in spite of the thousands of generations of indignity bred to them by mankind, they have retained a strand of wildness.

Like any of us, I suppose, they have been removed from the natural order for so long, but still hold a killer instinct. Whether terrorizing dinosaurs/chickens, or gobbling ants, or simply stalking the cheese drawer from the hallway, there is a strand, a thread, an atavistic whisper of their wild and rugged heritage. A pug has been habitually ruined for the wilds for millennia, and yet here they are, a predator with what tools they have. I wonder if we all might look briefly in the mirror and see a wilder us.

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Rules of the Road

Summer is fully upon us, now, which means it’s time to hit the road. Since its unofficial start this past Memorial Day, Americans coast to coast have begun taking to our highways in droves. Yes, it’s the season of the greatest American tradition: the road trip*.

But before you throw the kids, dogs, and lawn furniture in the Sportsmobile and hit the road, there’s a few things to keep in mind. The rules of the road aren’t all that complicated, but to avoid creating a dangerous situation or inconveniencing your fellow Americans there are a few things you should get in the habit of.
The Left Lane – Your fellow travelers know that left lane etiquette is about much more than highway convenience. It’s the basis of a political philosophy. Get yourself on the right side of history.

Sitting Shotgun Does Not Make You a Passenger – Sure, you’re not driving, but you still have a job to do. You are the navigator/DJ/caterer, and you are essential to a successful road trip. When you stop, the driver pumps gas and shotgun cleans the windshield. You are welcome to sleep but only if the driver is not sleepy. If you are both sleepy, it is your job to feed the driver coffee drinks and tell jokes. The road trip cannot happen without your help.


Watch for Failing Bridges – We are the richest, most prosperous country on earth. That’s why our roads, bridges, and infrastructure are flawlessly maintained and safe. Just kidding. They’re not. At all. We blew it. So any time you’re crossing a river or railroad tracks, be sure to have an exit strategy for if the road crumbles beneath you.

Distracted Driving – Remember, texting and driving kills. You should never do it. If you need to screw with a computer while you’re driving, make sure that that computer is a part of your dashboard. That way it’s safe to program a navigation system, answer voicemails, and pick a radio station. Using a computer while you drive is only dangerous if that computer is not a part of your car.

The 10% Rule – Every speed limit can legally ethically be exceeded by 10% but after that that’s it no more speeding.

Take What’s Yours – It’s your road. You paid for it, remember. With your taxes. So everyone else can fuck off. It’s your road, and your road trip, and your vacation. Never forget that. Take what’s yours. Whether you’re at a four way stop and you and the other guy got there at the same time, or your at a roundabout and you’re not exactly sure how they work, or you’re merging lanes on the highway – you can never go wrong by just punching the throttle and getting in there. Distracted driving is against the law, after all, so other motorists will highly alert and ready to adapt to your maneuvers.

Cruise Control – It is impossible to maintain a consistent without cruise control, so you should use it at any and every opportunity. Whether you’re rolling right along at 88mph, or crawling through the main drag at 26, cruise control is the tool for the job.

Plan for Media – Your summer adventure rig is only as practical as it is cool looking on Instagram. Does your milsurp MRAP get 1/3 of a mile per gallon? Who cares!? You can beat the crowds and, like, get off the beaten path. Sure, your perfectly restored 1964 mini-bus will crumple and drive your patellas into your pelvis if you hit so much as a skunk, but hot damn are you going to get likes on that picture of where you’re parked by that redwood and practicing some archaic campcraft.

*except for overthrowing democratically elected governments to benefit US trade interests, obvi

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