Change is inevitable, and everyone has
a different way of gauging just how extensively and rapidly things
around you are evolving.
In my case, it's based on how I have
to adjust my bicycle routes.
In the 22 years I've lived in my
current house in Milton, I've seen new streets, new schools, expanded
schools, new parks and new subdivisions. I've seen businesses of
various sizes come and go. And I've seen Highway 26 evolve from a
single two-lane road to a divided four-lane to a freeway that
bypasses the city.
But darn it, when they mess with my
bike routes, now that's an adjustment.
I have always had four favorite routes
– one in each direction – that I use to leave the city and head
to distant destinations. My favorite route was always County M
southeast to Townline Road, which I then took east toward LaGrange.
Once I was on M, it was an immediate shift from city to rural area.
Soon after a big ethanol plant showed
up, Highway 59 and County M were completely realigned, resulting in a
strange but relatively minor change to my route.
The new Highway 26 Bypass, on the
other hand, meant having to completely re-figure both my driving and
biking routes in and out of town. Unlike my auto navigation, however,
I am actually looking forward to trying the new bike trail that runs
alongside the bypass and connects Milton with Janesville and Fort
Atkinson. And the realignment of Janesville Street (the former 26)
now gives me a straight shot to Townline Road for my ride to
LaGrange. What hath God wrought?
So when the talk started about an I-90
interchange at County M west of Milton along with a city annexation
of 1,200 acres for an industrial park, my first thought was about how
that part of my bike ride to Indianford would be affected. Now, when
I get a few blocks past Milton West Elementary School, I am riding
past cornfields. This proposal would extend the city about three
miles west. Tractors and fields would be replaced with semi trailers
and buildings.
Sure, I could easily just change my
route and avoid it. But there's something about this development that
goes beyond altering a peaceful bike ride in the country. It would be
a sudden and drastic change to Milton. If my map-reading skills are
accurate, it would double the city's east-west width.
From a personal standpoint, it also
encroaches closer to what I always considered our neighborhood
growing up, the rural area that sent kids like me to tiny
Consolidated School. The western edge of the proposed development is
near an area the old-timers called Sandy Sink. It also reaches within
a half-mile or so of Threshermen's Park, home to the annual Rock
River Thresheree. Antique tractors, meet tractor trailers.
A billion dollars of development, 24
million dollars of tax revenue, and the promise of jobs, jobs, jobs
sounds very appealing. But what scares me is that the project seems
so massive, especially if it is done all at once as the developers
intend. And what if they build it and nobody comes? Not to sound
pessimistic, but it would not be unprecedented. You may recall that
an enthusiastic home builder envisioned 1,000 new homes along Highway
26 between Milton and Janesville by now. The project stalled after
only 12 were built.
The decision to put in the interchange
and convert this much farmland is a big step, perhaps a defining
moment in the history of the city. Will it be a huge economic boon?
Or a massive change to the town's identity? Or both?
We may know soon whether Milton and
its adjoining townships go down this road or not. My quiet two wheels may be replaced by
many sets of eighteen. On the surface, it seems like it may be a
tough road to pedal.
