My neighbor came over for coffee the other morning. We are both retired — him by choice and me, well, just retired.
We got to talking about these roundabouts that seem to have suddenly sprung up in our neighborhoods. He thinks they are part of a government plot to keep 18-wheelers from invading our — how did he put it? Environs, that’s the word he used.
“Environs! Gotta keep those 18 wheelers outta them,” he said. “They all want to go to Truck Town anyway. Keep em’ up there.”
I didn’t try to dissuade him from his convictions. I have found lately that everyone has their own personal opinion about the rash of round-abouts.
My belief is that several years ago at Washington State University, an engineering senior wrote a final term paper about “Roundabouts, Uses, History and Practicality Of.”
That ambitious young man was then hired by the King County Board of Planning. Recently that same guy, by now in his early 30s, got a promotion. In his new position he saw the wheres, whys, ways and means to pursue a lifelong dream of building his beloved roundabouts. The county coffers were overflowing with unspent tax money, so he set about his master plan.
Now, can you picture taking out every traffic light and stop sign and replacing it with a roundabout? They would have to be careful and provide each new R-A with proper exits to local businesses located ‘round the roundbout. Creatively, the county could even assess a fee from each company for building their individual driveway for easy customer access.
Wrap up that plan and send it to our money-making governor in Olympia. Then, for her next campaign, she can tell all of us how she is working to save us additional taxes and still accomplishing miracles, and for that reason is seeking your support “during this most difficult election season.”
She may lose on the one up at the casino. Being on tribal land, they could tell “The Greg” to go pack sand: “We are our own nation, and your state can’t dictate to us.”
During our chat, we had beat the political slant on round-abouts to death.
“But wait,” said my neighbor. “There’s an aspect of this we haven’t discussed, and I think it’s important.” I was of course all ears as he brought a new theory into the picture.
“Have you thought for one minute about the religious connotation these roundabouts, traffic circles, any circular traffic patterns, represent?”
“No, enlighten me, please.” He didn’t even hear my response.
“How can you be so blind? Think for a moment of the ancient civilizations, read the last two Dan Brown books,” my neighbor said. He could tell from my puzzled look that I hadn’t followed him. “The movies, the books.”
“What movies? What books?”
“You know, Angels and Demons, The De Vinci Code, Tom Hanks. You know!”
“OK, OK, what does that have to do with roundabouts?”
“The similarities, man, the similarities. Both books deal with hidden clues. Both books have many circles in them.”
I interrupted, “I don’t remember circles in the books.” I thought he was going to hit me in exasperation.
“Just listen, OK?” I nodded, he kept on.
“How about up in England or Wales? Stonehenge? Circle, right? How about the circle of seven?”
“What’s the circle of seven?”
“Never mind, just shut up and listen. Have you heard about the seven brides? What do you think goes on at those traffic circles between midnight and 3 a.m.? Strange carryings-on I’d bet. I’ll tell you this, you don’t know, I don’t know, but it sounds suspicious to me. Can’t you picture a coven of gnomes or early Celts or Celtics or whatever, dancing around a circle with a bonfire in the middle. And that ties in with your theory about the WSU guy. Especially if he was a Druid or something.
“If I see Ron Howard in town scouting out a filming location I’ll have been proven correct. Ah! Ha!
“I love deductive reasoning,” my neighbor said. “Thanks for the coffee. Tomorrow you come over for some of my brew.”
And he got up to leave. Making me wonder about what type of brew he was referring to.
Before he walked out the door, he turned to me and said “You know, I count five traffic circles close by. Only two to go to reach the circle of seven, that’s counting the one on the way to Duvall.” He looked me straight in the eye and said “I’m going home and lay some flat, square paving stones in my back yard. Stay away from roundabouts.”
• Bob Edwards is a member of the SnoValleyWrites writers’ group. He lives in North Bend.
