O N sampling some of the new express highways and turnpikes, one gets the impression that driving on them must be much like travel in outer space. Nothing to see, nothing to do, nothing to indicate whether the day's run is through New Jersey, Maine, or Ohio, or through Phase II of the back road to Mars. Otherwise, the two would have a great deal in common. Within the near future, not more than two or three years, a man ought to be able to drive from New York to Los Angeles without having to look at anything at all. One hundred miles, one hundred minutes, but somehow the longest hundred minutes of effortless motoring that anyone could wish.
Conversation dries up quickly on the express road.
That sign said it's ten miles to the Griggsville exit. Only when transportation planners take a more balanced approach will Americans' time on the road become decidedly more enjoyable. It's only ten after ten. Each of the new toll roads is controlled by an Authority, and everywhere are the signs of the Authority's power and wisdom. It all seems terribly modern.