At a certain age, talking about weather and traffic comes right alongside crow’s feet and saying stuff like, “Wow. That’s some good mulch.”
We can chalk it up to – shall we say, being “seasoned,” or a limited world view – or the fact that right now, traffic and weather are supremely impactful.
I live in Northern Kentucky, which fulfills my great aunt Maud’s request when I moved to Cincinnati a couple of decades ago that I would still live in “The South.” I didn’t tell her that I lived in Ohio for two years. What she didn’t know didn’t hurt her.
But soon enough, I made the trek across the river and settled in the 859. Now I fly the flag for NKY. I’m one of its biggest fans. Except when it comes to bridges.
Now, I realize that there is an entire generation of people who have never seen I-75 in Cincinnati without orange barrels. Construction and backups are facts of life. I get it.
For the past few years, there have been an overwhelming number of lane closures and bridge “maintenance” projects. But let me paint you a picture of what life is like on the roads of Northern Kentucky right now.
The Brent Spence Bridge is virtually impossible to take north. And with the tarp covering it right now, taking it southbound makes it feel like you’re driving through a diaper.
Ah, good thing we have other bridges, then, right?
Sure. Except the Roebling Suspension Bridge is also closed. And that means everyone in Kenton County – or traveling through it – is trying to get on the tiny little Clay Wade Bailey Bridge to get downtown.
But what about the Taylor Southgate Bridge, you ask? Or the Daniel Carter Beard Bridge?
Ohioans, lemme catch you up. We all know how much of a literal and figurative divide the river is. But I’ll bet you didn’t realize that a county line can be just as much a barrier. I didn’t either.
The Taylor Southgate and the Daniel Carter Beard Bridges are in Campbell County. By and large, Northern Kentuckians like to stay in their counties. It’s a peculiarity along the lines of knowing the correct answer to “where did you go to school?”
It’s here that I point out that, as a transplant, I don’t understand why the river or invisible county lines make a bit of difference and I happily travel across them daily. There are plenty of outliers like me. But there are plenty of folks who cross county lines sparingly. Or when they have to – like when there’s a Target on the other side. That’s always a good draw.
So, knowing there are huge backups on the interstate, especially on weekends and during rush hour, why would anyone choose to try to venture northbound over the Brent Spence Bridge? What a great question.
I have a teenager who’s learning the rules of the road. She simply cannot understand why traffic exists. “If everyone would just keep moving, there wouldn’t be backups,” she explained. Makes sense in theory, but certainly not in real life. Just ask those folks in the two-hour backup that stretched to Florence last weekend. That’s two counties, if you’re counting.
Despite the traffic, despite the weirdness of driving across the Brent Spence Bridge, people are choosing to sit on I-71/75 in hours-long delays. They’re choosing to stay the course rather than try something new.
I feel like there’s a bigger lesson to be learned here. But I’d settle for an easier commute.
When Kathrine’s not stuck in traffic, you can catch her on Coffee Break with Kathrine, weekday mornings at 10 a.m. on The Enquirer's Facebook page. You can also sign up to receive her weekly e-newsletter at cincinnati.com/newsletters.
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