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Thursday, December 10, 2015

How To Escape From A Roundabout

Two entities have crept westward across the land in the past few years and made their way into northwestern Wisconsin and northeastern Minnesota.

The first is called a “Kwik Trip.”  They are gas-station-mini-grocery-store-combos that are multiplying faster than rabbits in the Duluth/Superior area.  And they make the best chicken alfraid-o (pronounced “alfredo”) pizza in the whole wide world!  How do I know that? I took a survey of all the 13 year old teenage grandsons that I know…and Noah gave it a resounding two thumbs up!

The second is called a “Roundabout.”  There are at this time only two in our area (that I know of).  They are the cruelest of other-worldly circular traffic control inventions ever foisted upon the American public.

Roundabouts were originally designed by the English during the Dark Ages (that era before cable TV) to slow the Viking hordes from spreading lutefisk throughout Europe.  They worked wonderfully – when that fierce Norwegian warrior Erik the Red (cousin of Barney the Purple) attempted to lead his army to London, upon entering the roundabout he simply kept going round and round and round until he was finally heard to say, “Uffda Sven!  How do we get out of here!  Let’s snack on some of that lutefisk and then skeedaddle back to Norway!” 

For those unfamiliar with these marvels of traffic engineering, here is some information from “Roundabout USA” (kind of sounds like an amusement park, doesn’t it?): “A modern roundabout has three major characteristics compared to its predecessors -- traffic circles and rotaries. First, the roundabout gives vehicles in the circular travel way the right-of-way. This change on a national basis in England in 1963 marked the start of the modern roundabout era. Second, roundabouts are small, generally from 70 to 160 feet in diameter compared to 300 to 400 feet and more for traffic circles and rotaries.”

Did you catch that?  The predecessors to the roundabout were “traffic circles” and “rotaries.” Traffic circles faded in use when crop circles became the favorite form of UFO traffic control and rotaries eventually merged into a loosely knit consortium of civic organizations. 

This is an early cave drawing of a roundabout found near London:














This is a blueprint of a modern day Roundabout found in an engineer’s office:

And this is an aerial view of the Roundabout at the other end of the Bong Bridge - that's me in the blue car:

And don’t feel bad if, when you entered a roundabout for the very first time, panic and a sense of dread set in.  They are beyond confusing!  Consider the following phraseology from several different publications describing this wonder of traffic control:

“The rotary began in the U.S. as a simple circle with no governing principles, but evolved into new designs based on weaving theory.” 

Weaving theory?  You begin to think about making baskets when you go in there?

And this, “If theories can correctly predict the critical gap, correctly predict how many such gaps are available, and correctly predict move-up time for vehicles in the queue, then theoretically we can sum individual driver behavior to predict total capacity, queuing, and delay. It is this apparent simplicity that gives gap theory its broad appeal.” 

The queue? Simplicity?  Broad appeal?  I hope they get a queue, because I predict that when the gap theory combines with the weave theory there is going to be a pile of cars in the middle of Roundabout Island the size of the Empire State Building!

And here is some more unintelligible rambling on the subject of Roundaboutology, “In the last step of gap theory, analysts sum predictions of individual driver behavior to predict aggregate intersection performance during the analysis period. This is mathematically simple but statistically dangerous, because aggregating results of previous estimates will compound any estimation errors.”

I don’t usually scream at my computer, BUT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???

And finally this: “First, a roundabout is geometry. Unlike a signal, roundabout performance is entirely controlled by geometry and markings. To evaluate the effect of geometric design elements, a gap theorist must reliably predict a driver’s reaction to all relevant geometric parameters…” 

What?  My reaction to relevant geometric parameters?  How should I know? I flunked geometry!

And get a load of this from “Roundabout USA” (Hee-Haw!), “…roundabouts have a raised entry "splitter" island that slows down or constrains speed just before entry, duplicating in a way the curvature the driver will experience within the roundabout itself.” 

The curvature the driver will experience within the roundabout?  We’ll get bent out of shape when we go in there?  Am I reading that right?

Maybe on “Splitter Island” they should add a McDonalds or a Bass Pro Shop to give motorists who cannot escape something to do.
Perhaps the roundabout was the inspiration behind the weird machine in Carl Sagan’s book/movie “Contact” that sent Jodi Foster to see her dearly departed dad in the Chevy Vega System via a worm hole.  Why do I say that?  Because one person from Superior, Wisconsin that was trapped for 93 minutes in a roundabout on the eastern end of the Bong Bridge stated, “Once I got in there I began going faster and faster until I was bent out of shape by the weaving geometry of the gap theory.  And it seemed like time itself was slowing down!  And then, as I neared the speed of light on Splitter Island, I began to see my long dead relatives!  And even some of my short dead relatives!”

I think the Department of Roundabouts should give out trophies to motorists who actually navigate successfully through the weaving splitters of gaps and queues and geometry, oh my!

To conclude my thesis on “Escaping from a Roundabout via a Parallel Universe,” this actually happened to me when I approached the Bong Bridge Circle of Death for the first time.  As I entered the new roundabout from the west on Belknap Street, the sign indicated that I should enter the rotisserie and go counter clockwise.  (What makes this Roundabout even more confusing is that it incorporates a “wheel within a wheel” technology – there are TWO circular lanes orbiting Splitter Island!)  But one of the arrows engraved into the concrete in one of the lanes approaching this DOT amusement park strongly suggested that I should enter this scarey-go-round and go LEFT to get to Duluth. (I think I have that right…it was all so confusing.)

Fortunately my sixth sense indicated to me that if I did that, I would begin seeing dead people…one of them being Dan Vander Ark.

What did I do?  I could see Duluth in the distance to my left so I put my two wheel drive S-10 into four wheel drive (I double clutched), put the pedal to the metal, flipped on the nitrous oxide switch for an extra surge of power (actually I just turned up the radio), cut right through the McDonald’s drive-through on Splitter Island, grabbed a double cheeseburger, and plowed my way onto the Bong.

Or something like that.

I leave you with this final thought: “The history of research on roundabouts shows that ‘what is going on’ is not obvious.” (Mike Brown, Retired Chief of Geometrics, London)

I’ll say :>)

Dan Vander Ark
Copyright 2015

All rights reserved

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Doctor, I Think I’m Dying!

My wife came down with a bad cold & cough on Memorial Day night and I came down with the same cold & cough the following Saturday day.  She started feeling better as I started feeling rottener, so it was obvious that she had mysteriously transported her germs over to me without my permission.

Even though I asked her to stay home from work and/or go to the doctor when she was sick, she refused.  She is tougher than nails.  Tougher than John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Genghis Kahn rolled into one (but a LOT prettier!) I am surprised germs even dare to go near her.

Me, on the other hand, am a wimp.  Without any prodding from my wife, I stayed home two days.

I emailed my boss that I wouldn’t be in on Tuesday because I hadn’t gotten done what he wanted me to do and now I am dying and could he push off my project for maybe say a week or so?  And I emailed him early on Wednesday to let him know that I was still dying and did that project get done?  If not then I will be dying on Thursday also.  And possibly Friday.  Although by the weekend I should be undead.

I told my wife that I thought I was dying and that I should go to the doctor as soon as possible. 

Her reply? “It’s just a bad cold; you don’t go to the doctor for a cold.”

The local clinic opened at 8:00 on Wednesday and I was there at 7:59:59 banging on the door.

“Let me in!  I am dying!”

When the student nurse came to get me after 300 seconds of waiting in agony, we did several laps around the inside of the facility as she was new and was unfamiliar with the floor plan and didn’t know if my room was on Hallway C or D.    On the tenth lap the track announcer said we were in the lead by “a lot” and when the nurse’s station finally waved the checkered flag they then gave us directions to room 222.

(And has anyone ever unraveled the code behind those mysterious colored room flags?  You know – the red, yellow, black, blue, etc. little plastic flags that the nurse or doctor flips out or in.   I know that red and black indicate a hurricane warning, but I am not sure about the others.)

The student nurse tried to take my blood pressure but she was confused by the velcro on the BP cuff and had the thing upside down.  She finally figured it out.  Perhaps she struggled in Velcro 101 in Nursing School.  But she was very nice.

“Your BP is fine,” she said, “It’s 100 MPH over 33 1/3 RPM.” 

As she went out the door I noticed she was dropping bread crumbs so she could find her way back.

Then the doctor came in.

“Doctor,” said I, “I think I am dyeing!” 

“Are you sure?” she said, “what color were you before?”

“Sorry Doc, I meant to type “I am DYING!! As in a Christian Ponder pass attempt!”  She immediately knew what I meant and I could see the look of concern on her face by the depth of her furrowed brow which was brownish in color with just a hint of auburn.

“Why do you think you are dying?” she asked.

I have a raging fever, can you check my temp?” 

She did…she said it was a normal 98.6.

“That must be Celsius!” I said. “Can you check that again???”

This is just a little deviation from the main story, but who determined 98.6 degrees is “normal” anyway?  Maybe the rock band “Keith” paid off the AMA back in ’67 so their song “98.6” would make sense:

Hey, 98.6, it's good to have you back again
Oh, hey, 98.6, her lovin' is the medicine
That saved me, oh, I love my baby

That sounds a lot better than:

Hey, 100.0, it’s good to have you back again
Oh, hey, 100.0, her lovin’ is the medicine
That saved me, oh, I love my baby

Back to the main story and me.

The doctor was a Physician’s Assistant and not a real doctor so maybe that explains why my temp was normal.  A “PA” is an abbreviation for the Latin “almostus a doctorus.”  A PA can do everything a real doctor can do except what is defined by the AMA as “icky stuff.”  The American Motorcycle Association defines “icky stuff” as “anything on the outside of you that should be on the inside, and anything on the inside of you that should be on the outside.

After my DIS-appointment (the doctor refused to believe that I was dying) I went to that place that’s on the corner of Healthy and Happy which is directly across the street from their nemesis CVS [Comma Value Separated] Pharmacy. I purchased 17 large bottles of Dayquil, 24 bottles of Nyquil, and a couple bottles each of MorningQuil and EveningQuil.  And cough drops…lots and lots and lots of cough drops.  I purchased a case of sugar free what are technically called “Cough Suppressants/Oral Anesthetics.”  I put several in my mouth and duct taped a bag to each arm as I figured they would work like those nicotine patches.

I told my coworkers to stay away from my cube because “germs as big as blackbirds are flying around down here in I25.” (Is it just me or does I25 sound like a prison cell number?)  

And I for one am so glad that our company has Professional Series "AngelSoft"  facial tissue.  At least I didn't have to deal with amateur series facial tissue during my long illness.

I am on the mend now.  My temp is pretty much back to normal from my raging fever.  I will check with my boss to see if my near-death experience was justification for not doing what it was I was supposed to be doing when I wasn’t doing it.

The end.

Dan Vander Ark
Copyright 2015
All rights reserved