Rural Banter

Author: ERICA GOODMAN

Vermont has always seemed a friendly and inviting state. Amiable neighbors smile as you pass on the street, people are constantly holding doors open and drivers halt at every crosswalk to let pedestrians and women with baby carriages safely cross. New York Staters, on the other hand, have long been marred by the myth that there is no more to the state than the city and with the reputation of dwellers of the five boroughs as obnoxious and dangerous drivers. So, in Nov. 2003, the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles took a hint from its Green Mountain neighbors and passed a yield-to-pedestrians law. Motor vehicles have since been required by law to slow down or stop for any person crossing at any part of a crosswalk.

The city had no problem adjusting to the new traffic requirement. Traffic in the city of over eight million people has long been regulated by zebra-striped crosswalks and lit hands counting down the time until the line of cars will go. The transition to common courtesy for motor vehicles in the less densely populated areas of the state has, on the other hand, been a much more complicated task. In villages that boast a lone traffic light and a handful of stop signs, most drivers simply coast down main streets in hopes that they have properly timed their trips to pass by as the light turns green. These drive-thru towns certainly see cars pass, yet few people actually ever stop except to fill up on gas.

This drive-thru mentality has proved problematic for some towns as New York State has sought to enforce the new traffic policies. One village has even instituted a system of strategically placing orange flags at both ends of the crosswalks. In theory, pedestrians are supposed to grab a flag, wave it wildly in the air as they cross, and replace the flag in the opposing receptacle after they have made it safely across the street. But only elderly men and children on bikes that still have training wheels ever use the flags, so motorists continue to narrowly miss the pedestrians they are supposed to be watching out for.

In the battle to control the crosswalk, even dwellers of rural America are holding strong to their gas-guzzlers. Walking to school or the post office is really only an option for villagers. Since no one owns a horse and buggy anymore, the easiest way to get into town is to jump into a car and drive there. Rural life is far from slow, especially on the flat country roads that often serve as drag racing tracks for rambunctious teenage boys. Some kids even take to the field, attaching anything from a snow tube to a hot tub to the back of a truck and riding across bumping cornfields. So goes local entertainment. Even those who stop rather than just drive through town, the adjustment toward full pedestrian yielding is taking time. So walkers beware, or at least suck up your pride and wave the orange flag.