I’ve lived in the Bellingham, Washington area since I was a youngster (longer ago than I care to remember, usually). Back then the population, as I recall, was in the neighborhood of 35,000 or so. Now, it’s 75,000 and growing. The county has experienced much the same growth with the result that the freeway has become a mass of bumper to bumper traffic from Bellingham south to Mount Vernon during “rush” hour (and, actually, an hour or two either side of that time) morning and evening.

I often ride at or just above the speed limit in the right hand “slow” lane (trying to maintain a safe interval between my bike and the traffic in front of me) and marvel as a solid row of vehicles in the “fast” lane slowly creep by me (also bumper to bumper) blithely believing that the extra one or two mph they’re moving is really getting them home any more quickly than it would if they were in my lane. Speed control by the State Patrol is a very occasional thing along this stretch of I-5 with the result that when the traffic does spread out a bit the speed increases to more than 10 over as drivers feel the freedom of the “open” road.

Tailgating is epidemic and it would appear that many drivers are simply unable to function unless they have their radiator buried in your license plate. Often, when being tailgated mercilessly by some cager with a cell phone mashed to their ear, I’ll move into the left lane to let them by whereupon they’ll rush forward madly until they again have their radiator hard up against the rear bumper of the next car ahead of them where they’ll tool along blissfully unaware of the risk they pose to themselves and others but serene and comforted in the thought that they now have someone to follow.

Often I’ll drop off the freeway to take a “back” road home only to find that it also is packed with traffic as others also try the alternate routes to get away from the madness that I-5 has become. Finding a relaxing route home free from the hustle and bustle is becoming as difficult as finding a cheap cup of coffee and about as relaxing as a colonoscopy. Years ago my drive was quiet enough that I saw a coyote sauntering across the freeway with a dead cat in its mouth. Nowadays, that same coyote wouldn’t make it across one lane alive (and if it did the coyote would find itself tailgated by a cager with it’s radiator pressed up tight under the coyote’s tail).

Ah, well. Perhaps it’s time to look for another sleepy, little town that hasn’t yet experienced that growth that has blighted Bellingham and that still has an opportunity for a “quiet” commute. But for now, it’s me and the bike and the crowded roadway.

 

Ride safe,

Zippo and Jax