Commute pits
Route 61 vs. Route 183
By
Jeffrey Fazio
DriveTime Columnist
Seven
years ago when I started working here at Reading Eagle Company I moved
into an apartment in the 100 block of south Fifth Street. My mornings
started off with a pleasant two-block, two-minute commute to work. As
my car stayed parked each day, I took great pleasure in saving gas and
enjoyed fewer oil changes. It was also really nice that I did not have
to wait for my shoes to get warm in the winter time before heading
out.
Roughly
two years later I moved into an apartment complex on the edge of the
city, near the end of Hampden Boulevard. Although this more than
quadrupled my morning commute, it was still not enough of a hassle to
cause me much concern. The amount of mileage I was adding to my car
crossing the city was negligible. Traffic was also not much of a
concern as the grid work of the city offers infinite options for
getting across town. The commute was so short that by the time my car
was warmed up in the winter I was already parking in downtown.
Two
years ago I bought a home in Schuylkill County. My Realtor must have
asked me a dozen times if I was sure I would be okay with a nearly
30-mile, 30-to-40 minute commute. "Sure," I said. "What’s
the big deal? I enjoy driving. "
Well,
my new home offered only two choices for getting to work: Route 183 or
Route 61. I’ve come to learn that deciding between those two routes
is like trying to decide between root canal or having the tooth
pulled. Either route will be painful and seem to take forever.
At
first glance, I thought the decision between the roads was an easy one
since the math was seemingly simple. Both options are roughly the same
distance. Route 61 generally has higher speed limits than Route 183.
For the most part, Route 183 is a crawling single lane compared to the
bustling two lanes of Route 61. The choice seemed to be obvious.
Unfortunately,
it was time for me to learn the "new math." The new math is
also really simple to understand, but not as obvious until you
actually take the time to sit down and count it out. Luckily (or maybe
I should say, unluckily), Route 61 offers plenty of time to sit and
count so it did not take me very long to realize the error in my math.
Since
I’ve already done the math for you, let me share it’s simplicity
and all will make sense. If you travel from the Penn Street Bridge to
my home via Route 183, you will travel through six traffic lights and
one of them doesn’t really count as it flashes yellow for me. In
sharp contrast, Route 61, between those two points, is plagued with 20
red lights (one more on the way!).
Notice
in that last line I said red lights, not traffic lights. That is no
mistake, I assure you. If you commute to Reading via Route 61, every
one of those lights will be red. I guarantee it. In fact, sometimes
they’ll be red two or three times before you actually get to drive
through them.
Since
my math lesson, I’ve been religiously using Route 183 to trek to
work each day. In reality, the commute has not been that bad as
traffic on Route 183 generally keeps moving. I say generally because
there are days that make me want to jump on the roof of my car and
start screaming. Actually, it would be more accurate to say I want to
jump on the roof of someone else’s car and start screaming.
You
see, the frustrating times on Route 183 usually come from getting in a
long line of traffic behind someone that seems to be truly terrified
of the speed limit. Some people are apparently intimidated by
traveling at the blistering pace of 45 mph. That kind of mind-boggling
pace just isn’t for everyone. It should probably be reserved for
professional race car drivers that are trained to handle such insane
speeds.
These
"fearful of 45" drivers tend to float somewhere between 39
and 43 mph. I have yet to find a car that enjoys traveling long
distances at those speeds. It seems like you are either over-revving a
lower gear or lugging along in a higher gear. It’s just not a
pleasant speed to cruise at, which just adds to me being baffled by
the people who can hover at that speed, seemingly forever.
It’s
always easy to see when you are approaching one of these drivers as
they are typically followed by several hundred other cars with steam
emanating from the interior. These wretched caravans can easily be
seen from great distances as the constant alternating brake lights
offer more flashing red lights than the airport. Speaking of the
airport, I’m surprised these long chains of flashing red lights on
Route 183 have not caused air traffic control problems at our regional
facility.
Whenever
I get stuck in one of these never-ending lines of traffic, I am always
left asking the same question over and over: Don’t these people ever
look into their rear-view mirrors?
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