I was 15 when I first discovered the thrill of cruising this 25mph street at 60+, riding shot-gun, in Matthew's 1984 Peugeot. Clearly, not the BMW 5-series I covet today but more car than I personally owned in 1994. Riding in that car, at speeds that defied the law, our parents, and all facets of common sense, gave me my first taste of ridiculous freedom. It was undoubtedly a stupid game of chicken. How fast could we go without, A. crashing, or B. getting a ticket? Luckily, we never found out. My love of driving fast was only further fueled by traveling to Germany, repeatedly as a teenager. I have a long standing love affair with the Autobahn, that is, when it is not cluttered in Stau...congestion.
Given all of this, you would likely think I am the last person to bitch about the traffic, specifically the teenage traffic cruising up and down our street in Kirkland. I live approximately equal distance between the high school and Starbucks. A deadly combination. As both a resident and a teacher, I know all too well not to get in the way of a junior in need of a caffeine fix at 7am. I am, however, also 31 years old with two very small children. I would like to think I could stroll to my mailbox with my dog, or children, at one in the afternoon and NOT get hit by a car. Alas, it is that very wish, which seems to be the impossible, no matter where we live.
Our first house, was not really a house at all, rather a condo in a high-rise in the heart of downtown Seattle. At a mere 610 square feet, it served us just fine for the five years we lived there. We did not own a parking space, instead, I did my best to find free parking and fed a lot of quarters to the parking meter gods. I never once, in all five years there, gave two snits of a nanosecond of thought to how fast people flew down Hubbell Place. Not only did it not bother me, I am quite sure I was one of the speeding offenders. Our second home, a 2,200 square foot, five bedroom house was purchased in the spring of 2003. Having looked at houses from Renton to Redmond and all parts in-between on both side of the lake, we settled on this one in the Judkins Park neighborhood of Seattle. 26th and Massachusetts was to be our home for the next five years. It was a brand new house, of the cracker box variety I spoke of before. A coveted corner lot with lots of room to "grow." And grow I did. Three years after moving into that house I was pregnant.
Almost over night I began noticing things that never bothered me before. The traffic on Massachusetts. The mind-numbingly loud trucks that rumbled up and down the street between the I-90 on/off ramp and MLK, with my abode stuck smack in the middle. The semi-trucks were so loud they shook my china and crystal wine glasses with the fierceness of an earthquake--every 3 minutes another one came rolling by. Because Massachusetts was the main through street between I-90, Rainier Ave South and the Central District, it bared far more than its fair share of traffic. None of this was new but hadn't been noticed until the imminent birth of a child. And it was, as my husband feared, even more noticeable after our son was born.
Over night, I not only had this small, wonderful bundle of joy to care for but I was home, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Home to hear what I missed during the working hours of 6:15am, when I previously left, until 4:30pm when I arrived home again. Home to hear and feel the noise rattle my son awake from his naps. Home to see the close calls of other neighbors, who dared to cross that busy street during the day. Home. As my son approached his first birthday, we began looking for a new, quieter place to call home.
This led us to where we are now, in Kirkland. A suburb. My husband came kicking and screaming to the burbs, at my insistence that things, that schools, that people, that TRAFFIC would be better here. Aren't things always greener on the other side? When it became apparent that moving back to our hometown of Renton was not an option for him, we settled on this house, a mere one mile from his office. On what seemed to be a quiet, tree lined street straight out of "Pollyanna." There is a cemetery at the far end of our street, nestled in-between the high school and the Starbucks, and with the quietest neighbors in the world, or not, I was sure this was going to be the perfect place for us.
And it is very, very nice. Except, for the traffic. I better than anyone understand a person's need for speed. What I fail to comprehend, as an adult, is why that need must be exercised by grown people on my residential street? We are a street lined with small children. There are no children over the age of 7. None. Yet, the number of times I have been flipped off, nearly run down or flat out ignored by speeding drives...well let's just say I lost track eons ago. My husband has petitioned the City of Kirkland to conduct, two, yes, count them, TWO traffic calming studies on our street. The end of the first study commenced with white shoulder lines and "25 MPH" being painted on the street. That was it. The second study has produced nothing. Nothing more than the realization by the city that our street is wide and long. Two very poor characteristics for a residential street. Neighbors have suggested asking the Kirkland Police to sit on our street. But this, as a speed trap dodger, I know is only a temporary fix. As soon as the policeman and his radar gun leave, the speeders return.
What I want are speed cameras. I would like to believe that our police have better things to do than wait for someone like me, to speed down the street. I spoke earlier for my love of driving in Germany...I also love their speed cameras. I can see you now, scratching your head, thinking, "she's lost it!" But no, I like them for several reasons. After a while you know they are there. They are a permanent fixture on German roads--especially residential roads. The cameras are no secret. You only need to get caught once to learn not to speed down that street again. They're cheap too. When you compare the cost of a policeman's salary to sit out side my house 24 hours a day, a speed camera pays for itself pretty quickly. And mostly, they work. They work well. Germans who feel they can afford to speed and get caught repeatedly, do so. Ok, no problem. Easy money for the city. Those who can't afford to speed, don't. And therefore make the neighbors happy.
If I could, I would go back to the old neighbors on Roller Coaster Road to apologize. I never gave any thought to how upsetting it must have been to have obnoxious, stupid teenagers speed down their street at all hours of the day and night. Alas, they are gone. Their homes have been demolished in order to make room for new homes. Stop signs have been installed at nearly every intersection on that street. I have heard, though I cannot confirm, that late at night there are kids who blow through those stop signs, looking for the same buzz I caught traveling down that road at 60 MPH. Perhaps, speed cameras on that street could put a stop to it?
You have a BMW? Since when?
ReplyDeleteLisa, in my dreams. Reread what I wrote. I said, I "covet" one. Not that I have one. LOL. Someday!
ReplyDelete