(Published in the Janesville Messenger, 9-15-2013)
I was in North Dakota when the word on the street reached me in the form of a Facebook post:
I was in North Dakota when the word on the street reached me in the form of a Facebook post:
So,
don't know if you've heard, but Milton disappeared. I was driving
north on 26, same as I have for 23 years...and without turning,
exiting, or noticeably merging, suddenly found myself...on [County]N.
It was one of the most disorienting things I've ever experienced in
my life. I expected David Copperfield...to jump out like,..."I
did it!!!!"
Hearing
that magic was happening in my hometown from 720 miles away got my
attention. We all knew the new Highway 26 Bypass was opening, but
meetings and maps just can't prepare you for actually navigating the
route. My interest was piqued enough that even after a tiring 12-hour
car ride, I felt compelled to drive over to the new road before
completing the trip home.
Milton
wasn't exactly like a vanishing Brigadoon, but I was still surprised
at the view from the new route driving northbound. Depending on your
level of attentiveness, your impression of the city could be little
more than an ethanol plant and a grain tower. Going southbound with
Milton on your right, the city is more obvious, but the vantage point
feels oddly foreign. Even though Highway 59 was re-routed a couple of
years ago, with roundabouts placed at the spot where the new 26 would
have exit ramps, it just never dawned on me how far those roundabouts
truly were from Janesville Street, the former Highway 26. In a sense,
I'm surprised that I'm surprised.
Adding
insult to injury, Milton doesn't even get top billing on the exit
sign at Highway 59. Whitewater, 12 miles away but 9,000 residents
more, is listed above the city whose boundaries you are driving
through. Since neither proximity nor alphabetical order was
considered in its decision, one can only conclude that in the
Department of Transportation's eyes, size does matter.
I
can't blame our neighbors to the north if they react with a sarcastic
snort. Fort Atkinson and Jefferson have already been there and done
that when it comes to rerouting Highway 26 around their cities. In
fact, leading up to the opening of the bypass, Jefferson was
frequently mentioned by some Miltonites as an example of what we
didn't want our city to become - virtually invisible from the new
route.
But
is being less obvious to passing motorists a bad thing? A newspaper
article earlier this year quoted business leaders from Jefferson and
Fort Atkinson as saying that their downtowns have done just fine
post-bypass, with foot traffic and customers increasing due to the
elimination of big trucks rumbling through town. Fort, in particular,
is an example worth examining because it's been nearly two decades
since their big change. Sure, like a lot of downtowns, some cool
stores have come and gone, but there's a lot to like about Fort.
There is a great bike trail that I love to ride into the city. I've
also driven there to see concerts, eat dinner, or enjoy their
riverwalk. Heck, even the taco truck that once frequented Milton
loves its new home there. Fort didn't die when 26 skirted past it.
Bypass, schmypass.
That's
not to say that some Milton businesses and residents don't have
legitimate gripes about some of the decisions that were made by the
DOT. Highway
26 Version 2.0 is by no means a win-win for everyone involved.
But
like Fort, Milton won't disappear. Big changes take a lot of getting
used to, so we'll do the only thing we can do - adjust.
We'll adapt to our new route to work, our Google Maps will eventually
update, and someday your GPS will stop going into “Danger, Will
Robinson!” mode because it thinks you're driving crazily through a
field. In other words, this too shall bypass.
If only
we can figure out those darned roundabouts.
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