Damned old road

I remember the last time I was on US Highway 666. It was at least fairly hellish, partially due to the fact that I was just outside Gallup, New Mexico, one of the few American towns anticipated by Dante.

And "the last time" is now the literal truth, for US 666 is no more, the three states through which it runs these days (the southern spur into Arizona was snubbed years ago) having whined sufficiently to the authorities; the old Devil's Highway is now the innocuous-sounding US 491.

There's some vague sense to this — three-digit US routes are generally considered tributaries of the corresponding two-digit highways, and US 66 faded into history years ago — but I definitely don't envy the state highway guys who had to petition the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials, who presumably had to come up with arguments meatier than "My invisible friend is upset."

There is at present no Interstate 666, though I think the number could be put to use most appropriately, by affixing it to the New Jersey Turnpike. And no, it doesn't fit into the national grid there, but if Bud Shuster can have his damnable I-99 in the middle of Pennsylvania when by rights it should be in the middle of the Bay of Fundy, there's more than enough excuse to give the Garden State its own ticket to hell — and a toll ticket at that.

Posted at 6:44 PM to Driver's Seat