We enter the Périphérique at la Porte des Lilas. There are no freeways (autoroutes) through Paris proper, but the Périphérique rings the city and it's many portes. It is jam-packed but moving as we meander south, avoiding cars entering and exiting the road. We are looking for L'autoroute de soleil. The sun highway. The very same freeway under which I passed countless times on my bike heading toward Bois de Vincennes. The road forks 5 km (3 miles) south of the Périphérique, so in fact, I passed it twice. "When you come to a fork in the road, take it," Yogi Berra famously. I exit the Périph, relieved to have taken the correct off ramp and we proceed south toward the junction. I take the fork. L'autoroute de soleil. the yellow-brick road. We're not in Kansas anymore.
I keep right, the vehicle available to us having perhaps 50 horses. I wouldn't know, there's no users manual to be found. At the gas station, a quick phone call to the generous owner informs us that it takes regular unleaded, and not diesel. We only get about 7 liters / 100 km (35 mpg). Surprisingly bad for such a small car. It may be due to my inefficient choice of gears. A five-speed manual, after becoming acclimated to the sound of the engine, it seems that I can shift into 5th at 50 kph (30 mph). I guess freeway driving is not it's cup of tea. It has no tachometer too boot, and the speedometer is displayed dimly and digitally in the center of the dash. I glance to the right to check our speed; 130 kph (80 mph). We've finally reached the speed-limit.
If I keep going with the Wizard of Oz analogy, I have to revise the image of a joyful gaggle of newfound friends, arm in arm, skipping toward the Emerald City in the distance. The road in fact would curve to the right of the city, and the emerald skyscrapers would be replaced with low stone buildings a few modern office towers, and a few spires of churches and cathedrals. Unlike America, France decided not to build their roads straight through the cities, but rather between them. As we proceed toward Orleans, we curve about 10 km (6 mi) around the city. If we wanted to drive in, we would have to get off and take the local roads.
The stark contrast in infrastructure development could not have been clearer. France, followed a different path than America; roads mostly go around and between major cities instead of through them. Despite several fights from residents of small and big towns alike, the interests of quick and easy car access to the centers of the major cities won out, and our cities were bisected, quartered, and butchered by impassible concrete strips that fractured them into disparate neighborhoods. The Santa Monica Freeway (I-10 between L.A. and the ocean) was an disaster for the neighborhoods it bisected, though development afterward has masked some of it's effects.
Yes, after the completion of the super-highways, we could get from the suburbs to our workplaces quickly, in the comfort of our five-person vehicle. Changes in urban structure, lower density, increased our tactical advantage in the face of nuclear war. But the system suffers from it's own success. Cities became dependent on these asphalt tracts for their everyday needs. Locals take a freeway to go a mile. The additional general vehicular traffic necessitating stop signs and traffic lights everywhere; the city streets slow us to the pace of molasses. There's a reason the freeways get clogged to 10 mph during rush-hour. The old alternatives are no better. Our freeways now serve both city traffic and through traffic. If either one is too great, both modes suffer. Furthermore, cities have become victim to, and dependent on, the extra vehicular traffic. The increase in traffic requires installation and maintenance of traffic control devices, and additional maintenance of streets buckling from the traffic. Cities are now also dependent on the freeways for operations, but these roads are maintained by state funds, and expanded by state or federal funds. How a city chooses to develop is no longer up to the city, and for our decisions, we all foot the bill. San Diego is a prime example of a city dependent on it's freeway system. Full of steep canyons, the mesas have become like islands, and the freeways like bridges. For many the difference between the freeway and the city streets is an extra 5 miles--think about going from University City to Sorrento Valley without taking one of the two 8-lane interstates. Even bikes are encouraged to use the freeway for this route; rider beware of the cars zooming by at 75 miles an hour. An entire city whose development was dictated by the freeway system. And people complain about pork when municipalities ask for federal funds for mass transit.
The time for musing and daydreaming comes to the end. We turn off the freeway, I commission the assistance of my passengers to help me find change to pay the toll, and we are on the country highway, headed toward the Loire river. Ahead are the châteaux and the small towns that sprung up around them. One thing can be said about the highways: They are gargantuan concrete structures through which our wealth flows and now our country's lifeblood for better or for worse. As I visit the old castles, I am reminded that 300 years ago it was through these gaudy stone structures that flowed the wealth of a nation.
I keep right, the vehicle available to us having perhaps 50 horses. I wouldn't know, there's no users manual to be found. At the gas station, a quick phone call to the generous owner informs us that it takes regular unleaded, and not diesel. We only get about 7 liters / 100 km (35 mpg). Surprisingly bad for such a small car. It may be due to my inefficient choice of gears. A five-speed manual, after becoming acclimated to the sound of the engine, it seems that I can shift into 5th at 50 kph (30 mph). I guess freeway driving is not it's cup of tea. It has no tachometer too boot, and the speedometer is displayed dimly and digitally in the center of the dash. I glance to the right to check our speed; 130 kph (80 mph). We've finally reached the speed-limit.
If I keep going with the Wizard of Oz analogy, I have to revise the image of a joyful gaggle of newfound friends, arm in arm, skipping toward the Emerald City in the distance. The road in fact would curve to the right of the city, and the emerald skyscrapers would be replaced with low stone buildings a few modern office towers, and a few spires of churches and cathedrals. Unlike America, France decided not to build their roads straight through the cities, but rather between them. As we proceed toward Orleans, we curve about 10 km (6 mi) around the city. If we wanted to drive in, we would have to get off and take the local roads.
The stark contrast in infrastructure development could not have been clearer. France, followed a different path than America; roads mostly go around and between major cities instead of through them. Despite several fights from residents of small and big towns alike, the interests of quick and easy car access to the centers of the major cities won out, and our cities were bisected, quartered, and butchered by impassible concrete strips that fractured them into disparate neighborhoods. The Santa Monica Freeway (I-10 between L.A. and the ocean) was an disaster for the neighborhoods it bisected, though development afterward has masked some of it's effects.
Yes, after the completion of the super-highways, we could get from the suburbs to our workplaces quickly, in the comfort of our five-person vehicle. Changes in urban structure, lower density, increased our tactical advantage in the face of nuclear war. But the system suffers from it's own success. Cities became dependent on these asphalt tracts for their everyday needs. Locals take a freeway to go a mile. The additional general vehicular traffic necessitating stop signs and traffic lights everywhere; the city streets slow us to the pace of molasses. There's a reason the freeways get clogged to 10 mph during rush-hour. The old alternatives are no better. Our freeways now serve both city traffic and through traffic. If either one is too great, both modes suffer. Furthermore, cities have become victim to, and dependent on, the extra vehicular traffic. The increase in traffic requires installation and maintenance of traffic control devices, and additional maintenance of streets buckling from the traffic. Cities are now also dependent on the freeways for operations, but these roads are maintained by state funds, and expanded by state or federal funds. How a city chooses to develop is no longer up to the city, and for our decisions, we all foot the bill. San Diego is a prime example of a city dependent on it's freeway system. Full of steep canyons, the mesas have become like islands, and the freeways like bridges. For many the difference between the freeway and the city streets is an extra 5 miles--think about going from University City to Sorrento Valley without taking one of the two 8-lane interstates. Even bikes are encouraged to use the freeway for this route; rider beware of the cars zooming by at 75 miles an hour. An entire city whose development was dictated by the freeway system. And people complain about pork when municipalities ask for federal funds for mass transit.
The time for musing and daydreaming comes to the end. We turn off the freeway, I commission the assistance of my passengers to help me find change to pay the toll, and we are on the country highway, headed toward the Loire river. Ahead are the châteaux and the small towns that sprung up around them. One thing can be said about the highways: They are gargantuan concrete structures through which our wealth flows and now our country's lifeblood for better or for worse. As I visit the old castles, I am reminded that 300 years ago it was through these gaudy stone structures that flowed the wealth of a nation.
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