COLUMN: Roundabout

I've always taken pride in being a forward thinker.

Even as a kid, I loved sci-fi dreams of flying cars and household robots to carry out my every need. I've always been a fan of breaking new ground and pushing boundaries. New technology fascinates me. I look to the stars and seek the answers to life, the universe, and everything. I am Shane, embracer of progress.

At least, that's the story I try to tell myself. Truth be told, I'm a future-fearing fuddy-duddy. 

I hate change. There is comfort in the routine and familiar. Sure, I love going to new places and trying new things, as long as I know I can drive home on familiar streets to the same house in the same condition I left it, where all my stuff is in the same place I know it to be. Knowing how things work and knowing what to expect yields confidence, something my brain has always woefully lacked.

I pretend to be a cheerleader for progress, but here's the truth. About a year ago, we re-arranged the cubicles at my office. I was NOT a happy camper, and spent the better part of a week throwing what, in hindsight, can only be described as a hissy fit. I liked my old cubicle. I liked its views, its size, and its proximity to the break room.

But here's the thing. Our cubicles at work are identical. They all have the same views: cubicle walls. They're all the exact same size. My new cubicle is a few more paces to the breakroom, but a few less paces to the photocopier, so it's a fair trade. By and large, it's the exact same. But the mere idea of being forced to change was enough for me to throw a tantrum and act like some great injustice had been thrust upon me. I'm a sad, silly person.

And yet the future keeps coming. Artificial intelligence is moving at such leaps and bounds that in just a few years, we might be going to the theater to watch movies scriped, produced, and acted by computers. Popular music sounds more and more like angry robots every day. Cars are driving themselves. Don't get me started on politics and what the future (or potentially lack thereof) may hold.

But there's a couple things happening locally that are causing my irrational fear of change to max out. Don't be surprised if you soon see me outside picketing with a sign that says, "I HATE THIS AND I CAN'T OFFER A RATIONAL EXPLANATION WHY."

In less than 2 weeks, the Government Bridge to Arsenal Island will close for the remainder of spring and a good part of the summer. Why? Because Davenport is taking out the perfectly functional intersection at the end of the bridge and replacing it with a roundabout -- or, as I like to call them, a WHEEL OF ETERNAL FEAR.

I despise roundabouts. And I come from Galesburg, where we had one in our downtown before roundabouts were even cool. I don't understand the need, the point, or the advantages. Ergo, I looked it up. All you have to do is type "roundabout" into Google, and you're immediately greeted by not 1, not 2, but SEVEN articles from assorted state governments entitled, "THE BENEFITS OF ROUNDABOUTS." Note: If your state's government has to publish articles about why roundabouts are a good thing, it likely means there's a whoooole lot of people who need convincing.

The basic pro-roundabout arguments: They're less dangerous. There's a 90% reduction in fatality collisions. They slow down dangerous traffic and risky behavior. They control the flow of traffic without the need for stoplights. One article even argued they curb pollution, which is hooey. At best, they curb pollution at that particular intersection. But the cars are still polluting, whether they're stopped at your light or toodling down the road. They're just helping disperse the pollution. 

All these pro-roundabout arguments only work if you assume that (a) you're not an idiot, and (b) neither are any of the other drivers around you. That's a big ask. When I merge into a roundabout, my blood pressure raises and I white-knuckle the steering wheel through the whole process. I never know when to smoothly merge or let others merge. There's always a crazy person cruising the inside lane like they're turning laps at Bristol. There's honking and scowls and friendly greetings from middle fingers aplenty. I suppose the statistics don't lie, but in my world, it takes more brainpower and stress to navigate a circle than stop and watch a pretty light turn from red to green.

The roundabout, though, is just a pre-cursor to the main event, which is when Davenport converts their downtown one-ways into two-lane stop-and-go streets in a year or two. I'm also not a fan of this plan, but I also have NO justifiable reason for my outrage, other than my 6-minute commute will likely become a 9-minute commute. I plan on spending those three bonus minutes pouting and grumbling under my breath. Be prepared.

The downtown one-ways can certainly be hazardous. There's nothing kids love more than treating those stretches of road like their own personal drag strips, and it's intimidating to cross them on foot. There's also morons who turn the wrong way down those one-ways. I should know, I was one of them once. Back in high school, shortly after procuring my license, I tried to impress a girl I was sweet on by driving her up to the Quad Cities without my parents knowing (sorry, Mom, if you're reading this.) She wasn't especially impressed when I turned the wrong way onto 3rd Ave. and almost made fast friends with an oncoming truck. I get the arguments, but I still don't want things to change.

I can't help but feel like the little kid in me would be horribly disappointed not just by my fuddy-duddy attitude, but by our entire concept of future reality. After all, we were promised jetpacks and flying cars. Thus far, the only thing the future holds is stop-and-go traffic and driving around in circles. In the meantime, I'd better go clean my kitchen. It appears my robot maid must be taking a personal day.