by Timothy Egan So, they shut down a 10-mile stretch of one of the world’s busiest freeways for repair last weekend, in the nation’s most driver-stressed metropolis, and gave it a scary name — Carmageddon. Predictions were that Los Angeles would look like Mike Huckabee’s arteries before he lost a hundred pounds, and that chaos and road rage would reign under the tired sunlight of the Southland.
Lo, the weekend came and went, and a miracle was proclaimed — “a historic moment” in traffic history, as Los Angeles County Supervisor Zev Yaroslavsky called it. The 405 freeway opened 17 hours ahead of schedule. Pollution and smog levels dropped. A trio of pedestrians even dined on linen in the middle of the empty road. Ya-a-a-ay for L.A.!
“They loved it,” said Yaroslavsky in an interview. “It was Carmaheaven. My e-mails and Facebook comments have been not just 95 percent positive, but effusive. People who live near the freeway heard birds chirping for the first time. They heard the sound of kids playing.”
As a nonevent, Carmageddon ranks with Y2K, the much feared global computer collapse at the millennium’s dawn. But as an urban epiphany, the weekend when Los Angeles became a small town was no small thing. It disproved some of the most worn-out clichés about the city, while offering students of urban behavior some tantalizing glimpses of a better future.
To cyclists, the peace and harmony of the weekend was proof that people can get around on two wheels instead of four. And yes, Los Angeles was a green dream for the 36 hours of the actual shutdown, but not necessarily because pedal power replaced internal combustion.
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