Seattle, Washington - February 4, 2010

INTERSECTIONS - A Traffic Report

Here’s the picture:

An old Honda sedan was stalled out in the middle of the street.
The young woman driver was wide-eyed with distress.
Aimed at her from seven different directions were four cars, two pickups, and a garbage truck - all restlessly creeping forward toward her.
The oncoming vehicles were themselves being hassled by the stop-and-go creep of the traffic behind them, lined up bumper to bumper.

Miss Wide Eyes had lost her cool trying to navigate a rare form of vehicular vexation - a 7-way traffic intersection - the convergence of seven streets.
She became a temporary hazard that forced other drivers to treat her like a small round-a-about.
When she finally succeeded in getting her old Honda re-started, she crept on downstream like anxious turtle seeking refuge - on through the flow to the relative safety of a one-way street, where she stopped to recover.

She will likely not pass this way again.

Queen Anne Hill, where I live in Seattle, rises above the landscape as an island in the sky. There are only a few major routes up and down. And one of these, on the northwest end of the hill, involves negotiating the 7-way intersection that also happens to be where the hill is steepest.

The intersection is a model for testing human ingenuity and the limits of grace. The movement of traffic at this location relies entirely upon the cooperation, good will, skill and attention of the drivers.

Over the years I’ve become fascinated by the behavior this seven-way intersection elicits. Recently I parked my own car a block away and watched the action for awhile.

I amused myself by trying to put labels on some of the drivers I noticed.

Beside Miss Wide Eyes, I saw The Alarmed Creepers, The Screw-You Speedballs, The Zombies, The Side-Seat Navigators, The Inept Truckers, The Veterans, and The Rookies, as well as the Noble and the Nice.

But all could be divided into two broad categories:

1. Those who stayed inside the bubble of their cars in mind and spirit.
Those who stayed centered on themselves, and seemed to look upon the experience of the intersection as personal inconvenience to their mobility.

2. And those who moved outside their cars in their minds and spirits.
Those who stayed centered on the common experience of navigating a tricky convergence of traffic. They noticed other drivers - looked at them - nodded - smiled, even laughed - gave an “after you” wave - as if they were treating the experience as an intriguing puzzle to be solved in community concert.

I stress and emphasize that this was far and away the predominant attitude.

Despite the fears of Miss Wide Eyes, every driver who passed by her did so slowly and carefully. The garbage truck driver even paused, rolled down his window, and asked her if she needed any help.

Despite the arrogance and idiocy the intersection can provoke, I was most impressed by an almost gallant civility on the part of most drivers who recognized the situation and made it work without incident.

I confess that this was not what I had expected.
My pessimism was the only thing bent out of shape at the intersection.

Being a witness was a pleasure - adding an upbeat mood to my day.
I went away feeling good about what’s possible in human affairs.

It’s true that human rudeness and insensitive stupidity go on existing in the world. In cars or on foot. These traits are pretty well evenly distributed, and may be found if looked for - even sometimes seen in one’s own mirror.
Who has not been an irritable driver in a self-serving hurry on occasion?

But, if looked for and noticed, evidence of altruism, kindness, and alert intelligence are likewise well distributed, and may be found. If it were not so, none of the many intersections of human endeavor would work at all.