August 14, 2006
As with any large metropolitan area in the summer, there are numerous highway construction projects tying up traffic here. There is one huge project that starts just where I get on the ring road and continues for the first few miles of my commute. All of the work being done is off to the side or overhead, so the traffic flow isn’t too bad. The lanes are narrower there, and snake back and forth from one shoulder to the other throughout the construction zone.
One my way home there is a long stretch of the far left lane that is on the shoulder, where the rumble strips are - all thirty of them. Yes, I counted them. In and of itself, counting the strips isn’t a bad thing, but I count them every time I go over them. The first eight are evenly spaced, and then number nine comes almost immediately before the original rhythm returns. I suppose this is a little bit of OCD surfacing - nothing to be concerned about - but I am aware of it.
The second stretch of shoulder on the way home only has exposure to eleven rumble strips, and the lane is just wide enough to miss hitting them if traffic isn’t too heavy. That I can avoid hitting, and therefore needing to count, these strips most days pleases me.