Mayor Bob Coble, a regular contributor to this blog (in fact, he gets up pretty early to offer his comments sometimes), sent me an e-mail offering further info from his point of view on the local bus system. Here’s his message (sent at 6:32 a.m., which could explain the typos) in its entirety:

The RTA cuts that are in Gina’s article today are being considered by the RTA Services and Standards Committee (which I chair). Our final recommendations will be made August 11th. Those recommendations will be given to the RTA Board for their approval. The purpose of this round of cuts is too accomplish the RTA Board’s policy of reducing the costs of the transit system by 25% in order to stretch the trust fund monies to last until 2010. That will give us two opprotunities (2006 and 2008) to pass a dedicated funding source. State law requires referendums for permanent funding sources e.g. a penny sales tax and requires that the referendums be done during a general election. This is the third round of cuts since the RTA took over the system in October 2002. The first occurred when the RTA took over the system, and they were common sense cuts that were selfevident. No SCE&G route had been changed sinse the 1970’s and there was bus service to plants that had been closed for example. When the RTA took over the system with new buses we did three things to help us evaluate the system. First we installed fare boxes that could actually and accurately count the number of passengers on every route. That gave us the data to make decisions. Secondly, the Service and Standards Committee recommended and the full Board adopted "service standards" for evaualting the viability of each route. If a route does not meet certain passenger and revenue per hour goals it will be looked at. We first try to change the route and/or better promote the route before recommending elimination. Thirdly the RTA begun a marketing campaign with targeted TV advertisements and new maps etc.

The second round of cuts (based on the accurate data and service standards) will take effect August 1st and represents a 9% reduction in costs. Theses cuts have gone through the process and hearings. The third round of cuts is what is before the Service and Standards committee now. They represent a 16% reduction that includes elimination or cutting Saturday and Sunday service, eliminations or cutting three additiona routes and adjustments to the frequency of three more, and paying for the trolley service out of tourism moneies. These cuts (with the exception of the trolleys) I think will be real cuts to people getting to work. Trolley service should be paid for from tourism monies both private and public (accomodations and hospitality). We will present such a plan to the RTA Board by October 1st.

If these cuts are approved then we will have two opprotunities for passing a referendum. It took Charleston three times. The first referendum narrowly failed, the second narrowly passed but was thrown out on a legal challenge, and the third passed overwhelmimgly after CARTA was forced to cut service 85%. I hope we can avoid the later. Thanks

After staying up late doing a post about the new I-26 overpass near me, going on about how confusing it all was, I head to work this morning and see the DOT, or whoever, has done something about it.

Just in time, too. After smirking condescendingly for the last three days at people going down the access roads in an effort to get on the Interstate (until Saturday, the only way you could) and having to double back when they see that doesn’t work any more, I almost did the same thing myself.

I had already pulled into the right-turn lane across from Lexington Medical Center and was flicking on the blinker when I saw one of those big, portable electronic signs just ahead, reminding me that the new bridge — and new access to the Interstate — was now open. So I slid back over to the left just in time.

Why didn’t they put those signs up three days ago, when they initiated the new patterns? Of course, maybe they did, and I didn’t notice. But I think I would have. Anyway, this new state of affairs continues to be rolled out in an oddly organic, haphazard way — removing newly-unnecessary stop signs a day or two late, seemingly as an afterthought; getting folks used to the new paths without having laid the final layers of asphalt, which will surely disrupt everything again; keeping some lanes closed for reasons that aren’t apparent, even as the lights for those lanes function, confusing folks in the next lane over who think maybe they’re intended for them.

I suppose it’ll all be sorted out eventually. I hope so, anyway.

"There have been four wrecks already tonight on the bridge," said Paula as she checked us out at the Food Lion.

I can easily believe that.

Folks down in Charleston are going on about a bridge they’re about to open down there, but what’s the big deal? It will basically do what the old one did — get you from one side of the Cooper River to the other, and in basically the same way… with the addition of a pedestrian-biking lane, of course.

Whereas the big news in my neck of the Midlands is the new bridge that takes you across Interstate 26 via Sunset Boulevard. Some might call it an overpass, but it’s like none we’ve seen in these parts. (Actually, I think maybe I’ve seen some other interchanges that approach it around town — out beyond Harbison, and over at the intersection of Forest Drive and 77 — but the wild thing about this one is that it’s not a new interchange at all; this was built over the course of several years to replace an old bridge without ever completely interrupting the traffic to do it.)

In the several years it has taken to build it, this thing has been a constant source of puzzlement to those of us who traverse it regularly. We understood the need for the project — the old four-laner choked up every morning with the endless flow of a gazillion SUVs flowing toward Columbia, disgorged from the new subdivisions that keep popping up like weeds around the town of Lexington. They’d come piling in and backing up right at the point where I would have to turn onto 378, and getting that first mile to I-26 would take as long as driving the rest of the way to the office. It was extremely frustrating, especially when I was trying to get kids to North Side Middle School or Brookland-Cayce on time on my way to work.

So men with gigantic riding power tools started to work, and they tore down, and they built up, and they redirected the flow of the mighty river of steel and carbon monoxide. They concocted new ramps, and reshaped surrounding access roads. Businesses withered and fell before the changes, and others grew in their places. A Waffle House inexplicably was torn down, then rebuilt — although with the building oriented slightly differently, I believe — right in the midst of it all. And once we got used to one configuration, the busy men got busy again and changed it one more time, creating some really wild patterns in which you took your life in your hands getting on and off the Interstate across access road traffic. And if you were on one of the access roads and failed to crane your neck 270 degrees and keep it there while you accelerated from a new (albeit temporary) stop sign, you ran the risk of someone coming off the freeway westbound at 60 mph, BAM! into your left rear quarterpanel.

While we were all distracted with that, the construction crews built a new bridge right next to the old one, and redirected the overpass traffic onto the new lanes. Then they tore down the old bridge. OK. Then they started building another new bridge in its place. (Surely they’re not going to tear down the first new one, now, are they?)

Then, suddenly, all was unveiled. With no ceremony beyond some shifting of orange plastic barrels first into one configuration, then another, the whole thing (almost) was opened to traffic starting early Saturday morning. All of a sudden, we had an 11-lane overpass. Well, OK, maybe there aren’t 11 parallel lanes at any one point on the bridge (or maybe there are — not having an aerial photo in hand to refer to as I write this, it’s a little hard to visualize it all at once), but there are five lanes going each way, and one in the middle that apparently exists to show they had could have made it even wider if they’d wanted to. Of the five lanes each way, one is a right turn lane that doesn’t require stopping at the light; two go straight across to continue on 378, and two others turn left onto the Interstate (although once on the ramp, you have to merge back to one lane).

There is one row of traffic lights, at the very center of the span, instead of the set at either end that we had when all this started. That, and every other feature of the bridge, exists to keep things moving. And it looks like it might work, if everybody can figure it out. One of the smartest innovations — and the most disorienting one — is the way both eastbound and westbound traffic exiting the Interstate can turn left onto Sunset simultaneously, without having to cross each others’ paths. This is accomplished by briefly transporting all motorists to Merrie England, where you drive to the left of opposing traffic, and watch it all go whizzing past you on your right.

This is extremely efficient, and most unsettling — all the more so because the project isn’t, well, what you’d actually call finished. As Paula at Food Lion put it, "The lights are right, but the lines are wrong." Actually, it’s more complicated than that. The final layer of asphalt isn’t down (at least I hope not — this thing is still very rough and uneven). The big plastic barrels block off some portions of the bridge — for instance, only one of the two left-turn lanes each way is actually functioning (even though there are two left turn lights working, which can give you the erroneous impression that one of the go-straight lanes is a left-turn channel — hence Paula’s observation).

People are really confused, particularly the Interstate-bound traffic that goes onto the access roads that until Saturday were the way onto the freeway, but no longer. This leads to much turning around and doubling back. I have noticed no signs saying "This is no longer the way!" The engineers are evidently letting people figure it out by trial and error. It’s sort of like they’re just trying it all out this way to see how we handle it, before deciding whether to tear it all up and try yet another approach. It’s like they just can’t bring themselves to put down that last sheet of macadam and call it a completed project.

All of this has led in the last few days to the most excitement we’ve had in my general neighborhood in quite some time. OK, so I don’t get out much. But for a guy who basically gets up in the morning and goes to work, and then drags back home and plops into bed, this is high adventure.

You expect to have to teach a deputy certain things to make sure he does his job right. You need to teach him about Miranda rights, proper use of a firearm, search and seizure procedures and where the best doughnuts are found in various parts of the county.

If he’s a Yankee, you might even expect to have to teach him some simple phrases to help him communicate with regular folks, such as, "You in a heap o’ trouble, boy!"

But one thing you would think you wouldn’t have to tell him: Don’t ever, EVER shoot the sheriff’s dog.

Even Andy might have fired Barney (click on "Barneyisms") for exercising such "poor judgment." At the very least, he would have confiscated his bullet for an indefinite period. And it probably would have taken Opie a full half-hour episode to get over the trauma.

This first got under my skin almost two weeks ago, but I set it aside, having other things to write about. But now that I’m really ticked off, it’s time to say something.

I have a bone to pick with Mr. Andres Duany, famous architect and urban philosopher extraordinaire.

I get allergy shots — one in each arm — every two weeks. It’s a hassle, as between driving there from my office, waiting for the shots, waiting to make sure there’s no reaction afterward (there never is, but it’s a rule) and driving back to the office, it takes at least an hour out of my work day (like most service providers, the doctor’s office isn’t open for shots either before or after my work day).

On Wednesday, May 18, I was running really late for my shots. It was hot. There were two things wrong with my truck — the air conditioning wasn’t working, and the fuel pressure was seriously fouled up, causing it to give off clouds of noxious exhaust generated by inefficiently-burned gasoline. So I had to have the windows open, and every time I stopped at a traffic light I would gag and choke on the fumes that filled the cab until I started moving again.

And the traffic on Bull Street was standing still from about Taylor Street to the start of 277. Move a few feet, then stand still for half a minute and cough and gag and wheeze, move a few feet, cough and gag and wheeze, for a period of time that seemed like it would never end. But I eventually made it to the doctor’s office, and then put the incident out of my mind — except for resolving to take the truck in to let my mechanic take yet another crack at it (this time successfully).

Then, the very next morning, I read in my newspaper that Mr. Duany, the fancy-schmancy thinker of deep thoughts working on a plan for the State Hospital property, wants to expand his brief to alter the surrounding area — as if the Mental Health Department site were not enough to work with. He wants to “calm” the traffic on Elmwood Avenue, Harden Street, Colonial Drive and Bull Street with, the story said, “on-street parking, plantings, narrower lanes and lower speed limits.”

Quoth the urban planning guru (in a statement with cadences that, not having met Mr. Duany, I hear in my head as spoken with the voice of Marvin the Martian):

You have very wide streets here and, for some weird reason, you are proud of them…. They are very speedy and unpleasant streets.

He should try driving on them from 5 to 5:30 p.m. on a stifling Wednesday in a rolling gas chamber. Unpleasant, yes, but speedy? It was a parking lot!

How, pray tell, does Mr. Duany recommend that we get from, say, the USC campus and points south to Palmetto Richland hospital? Basically, there are two paths to choose from — Bull and Harden. If you make those any “calmer” you will lock up the city, trapping thousands who commute from downtown to their homes in the exploding Northeast via 277. (At least, I assume that’s where they’re going. They could be going to Charlotte for all I know.)

What does he propose to do with all that traffic, if he basically eliminates those routes as arteries (just barely) capable of handling that volume? (When I raised this question at the time, some of my colleagues facetiously suggested going all the way around town on 77 — which is about the only alternative that would handle the volume of traffic we’re talking about).

Now, I’m all for Town and Country and yuppies getting to walk from their condos to work and to the corner store. “Livability” is a great thing for those who can afford it. But that doesn’t help the rest of us get from point A to point B in X amount of time — which modern life insists that we do, whether we want to or not. (And I, for one, don’t want to — at least not this way. But until someone waves a wand and creates a true mass transit system for our area, I’m stuck with this way.)

So what set me off on this subject at last? Why go all Denis Leary now, rather than two weeks ago? Because I went to get my shots again today, and the traffic on Bull was so “calm” that I for the first time ever, I got there too late. Or at least the nurse said it was too late. My cell phone, which runs (like most cell phones, I suspect) to the second in synchronization with the U.S. Naval Observatory, told me I was just barely on time. (On another day I’ll address the issue of why there’s no reason in the world we can’t all be on the same time standard, instead of people in offices and stores closing early because their clock says it’s time.) But I didn’t argue, at least not much. I didn’t trust myself to say what I was thinking, because I was far too “calm” after fighting the traffic on Bull Street. The nurse was doing her job, and she didn’t deserve to receive the brunt of that. It wasn’t her I was mad at, anyway.

I was holding up the wall at the back of the S.C. House chamber, trying to follow what was going on with that body’s Shermanesque march through Gov. Mark Sanford’s vetoes, when Rep. Walton McLeod spotted me. After his usual genial, "Hello, Mister Editor," he started telling me what the MIdlands ought to do with the State Hospital property.

He said we’d be passing up a huge, never-to-be-seen-again  opportunity if we don’t make the whole thing into a park, and he has a model in mind — New York’s Central Park.

Well, I tried to imagine that, thinking back to last summer, when I stayed in a hotel on the park during the Republican National Convention. (Pictured is the gorgeous view from the S.C. delegation’s hospitality suite — my own room had a less breathtaking vista).

And it didn’t quite work, because while the park might be nice, it would be far less spectacular for lacking the contrast of being framed by Gotham and its eight million people.

I think Rep. McLeod saw that in my eyes, because he immediately asserted that Lexington and Richland counties combined are about the same size NYC was when Central Park was founded in 1870. Well, he got the date wrong, and the population figures aren’t exactly the same, but I take his point.

Interesting. I don’t know what I think about it. If we’re not going to use the site to build something cool like a minor-league ballpark (see, I never give up), I don’t have a preference. But I had heard others say something similar to what Walt was saying, so I thought I’d throw this out there.

Not having examined the poll itself, I’m not yet sure how much credence to give it, but I was very encouraged by the report that a survey sponsored by local business leaders found that 60 percent of active Columbia voters would ditch the city’s present Byzantine governmental structure for a strong-mayor form. I hope the commission considering changes in that structure will study the poll and take its results into consideration.

My eyebrow rose, however, at the words the political consultant whose firm conducted the survey chose to (almost dismissively) explain how unremarkable such responses are, including on the state level: “There’s been a tendency to want to give the governor top power,” said Richard Quinn. “It makes them (voters) feel government is more accountable to them.”

Well, you know why they feel that way? Because a government in which the elected chief executive is actually in charge of the executive functions is more accountable. Or at least it would be, if we’d give it a try for a change. We’ve paid too much over the years for our failure to trust democracy.