Drivers Sign On for Delayed Gratification
“Expect delays.”
These are not exactly the bywords with which I see myself marching into the third millennium, but they’re the words Caltrans put on a sign at the end of my street last week.
I’d had in mind something a little catchier for 2000, like, say, “Keep smiling,” or maybe “Carpe diem,” which not only has more oomph but that extra cachet of being Latin.
Even “ibid,” whatever that means, would be classier than “expect delays.” How about “quo vadis?” That means whither goest thou, which seems entirely appropriate to an age dominated by the bored bureaucrat. Whither goest thou now that we’ve blocked off your street? Hah!
Unless I’m mistaken, “expect delays” was first used by Father Serra in 1779 when San Buenaventura Mission construction became bogged down in a quagmire of cost overruns and earthquake retrofitting.
Hey, I’m not complaining, because my intersection needs an overhaul in the worst way. It’s the finality of that sign that bothers me. I feel it’s commenting on far more than road conditions. From here on out, every time I leave home to cash a check, buy a burrito, see my broker, visit my aromatherapist or go bowling, I just know it’s going to take a little longer, because Caltrans has decreed that I should expect delays.
Time was when that little nip in the morning air that whispers “October” meant that we were done with halter-topped, corn-dog-eating fair-goers and out-of-state tourists pulling jet ski trailers. It used to mean we could all settle back into our regular old California ruts, and get back to idling through two light changes instead of three.
At least that’s what I thought it meant. Turns out I did just fall off a turnip truck, although it kills me to admit to my husband he’s right.
Just when I thought all those out-of-staters had gone back out of state and freed up a slot for me in the slow lane on the 101 near the Victoria offramp, I heard about the $8-million overhaul of the Seaward Avenue-101 Freeway overpass and interchange a block from my house in Ventura.
Everything is supposed to be bigger and better. I found this out from the turnip truck driver.
“They’re going to widen the bridge over the freeway and all the on- and offramps. They say they’ll have the work completed by the spring of 2002,” said the long-haul turnip trucker.
On hearing the figure “2002,” I climbed right back up onto the bed of his truck and fell off again, in a meaningless gesture of self-flagellation.
In the spring of 2002 I will be 413 in dog years. The DMV will have confiscated my license. What will I care about “upgrading” then?
The Seaward interchange is more personal to me than my shampoo brand. I already spend an hour a day on that interchange, cooling my heels, frosting my jets, practicing my Spanish verbs and filing my nails while I wait for my light--or anyone’s light--to turn green every 17th minute.
How could a true Southern Californian get so taken by surprise?
I mean, I’ve learned some life lessons on the on- and offramps of life.
I’ve learned that the line I stand in will always be the slowest line. I accept this.
I’ve learned that “new, low price” doesn’t mean a lower price, just a new one. I accept this, too.
I’ve learned that at the movies, in order to get a “small” Diet Coke these days, you have to order a “child size” Diet Coke.
I’ve learned to not answer the phone between 5:30 and 7:30 in the evening--the telesolicitors’ golden hours.
And I’ve learned to say “paper” real fast at the check stand before the bagger can put everything in plastic.
So why haven’t I learned by now that every day in California some offramp is going to be “upgraded.” Like God, Caltrans works in mysterious ways. It is not given to a woman to know beforehand when her number is up. The only thing you can be sure of is they’ll put up a red cone and a sign that says, “Expect delays.”
As a reformed turnip truck passenger, I should probably become a cynic and assume the worst: that traffic will not only be rerouted in front of my house during construction, but the upgrading won’t be completed until the year 2005. Which will make me 440 in dog years.
However, a Californian should don a sunny outlook. As one who, like every other Californian, wants to improve her feng shui, I should assume that all of my problems up to this moment have been caused by the north-south layout of the Seaward-101 intersection. The improvements may in fact set a more propitious feng shui course.
Yes, I’ve got a feeling that the Seaward-101 project will enhance the feng shui of the whole street, the whole town, the whole county.
The new millennium will find us not in feng shui fury, but in feng shui forbearance.
But first, I want them to get rid of that sign.
Brenda Loree is a freelance writer in Ventura.
