By Amanda Lavelle.
It takes approximately 30 minutes—without traffic—to drive (or one hour and 38 minutes to bike or four hours and 48 minutes to walk) from my house in Chicopee, Massachusetts to the University of Massachusetts Amherst. The route goes through four cities: Chicopee, South Hadley, Granby and Amherst. If I outline it on a map, the line it forms resembles the side profile of a poorly proportioned person’s face: the chin begins at Lyman Street, the lips rest just above Dartmouth Street and the nostrils are perpendicular to Pleasant Street.
My commute is mostly made up of Route 116 North, more commonly known as simply 116. There is a lot to look at (besides the scattered squirrel carcasses) as I drive along 116 in my bright red 2000 Pontiac Sunfire, so I don’t mind that I have to take this route four days every week. I love looking at the thousands of trees that line the road. In the morning and at dusk, the light flickers through them like a million tiny diamonds. Driving amongst the trees is calming and almost freeing in a way that prepares me for my eight-hour day at UMass.
After I leave my house around 9 am, I drive two minutes down two side streets before I reach Route 33, which is part of 116. A minute later I’m in South Hadley and city police cruisers are stationed at areas where drivers, including myself, tend to speed. I put on my brakes and pretend like I was driving at 30 mph instead of 45. Then I look at my rearview mirror to make sure no cops are following me and let out a sigh of relief when I see that there are no flashing lights. As I drive further into South Hadley I see Mount Holyoke College on my right and students cautiously pass through crosswalks after pushing a button on a pole that lights up the crosswalk and repeats the phrase in a monotone voice, “Caution. Cars may not stop.” The stone buildings at the college resemble the ones from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which is better known as the school in the Harry Potter books and movies.
As I drive down the road, more and more trees begin to appear but the area is still predominantly residential. It’s the beginning of autumn so the leaves are changing colors and flying through the wind before eventually descending on the ground. The faster I drive, the more the colors begin to blur and create an impressionistic painting. According to the sign I just passed, I’m now in Granby and there are no more houses along 116. I’m at the beginning of my favorite stretch that I like to refer to as the “rollercoaster” and on the left I see the mountain of multicolored trees. The speed limit changes from 45 to 50 mph in a matter of seconds and my little Pontiac struggles to make it up the steep hill (on my way back home, I always want to stick my arms out of my car like I’m on an actual rollercoaster but I never do). The sign on the left informs me that I’m now “Entering South Hadley” which is confusing because almost immediately after that I’m in Amherst. The top of the hill plateaus and on the right side of the road is the Notch Visitors Center at the Mt. Holyoke Range State Park. As I glance over at the full parking lot, I realize that I really need to get in shape and feel embarrassed that I am driving instead of walking four hours and 48 minutes to school. I look back to the road and the speed limit suddenly changes to 30 mph. It’s down the spiral hill I go and I put my brakes on the whole way down and hope that my car doesn’t flip over as I go around the sharp turns. The road flattens again and I’m in Amherst. On my left I see Atkins Farms, home of the country’s best Cider Donuts. I hear the donuts calling my name, but I resist their tempting offer to go buy and eat them.
I drive through a newly constructed rotary that is kind of like a maze that I didn’t know how to get out of when I first went through it. Big orange cones are scattered in the road and police officers are conducting traffic. I see a large sign on the left that reads “Hampshire College” but I question whether the college is really around here because I all see is farmland. Further down the road, the area becomes more residential and small stores appear. As I continue to drive, there is one last breathtaking view of just land, trees and mountains on the right. I have to look quickly because unfortunately I pass by it in a matter of seconds. The landscape is especially beautiful now because of the multicolored trees. I look back to the road and see some people riding their bikes.
Some look like they are (or trying to be) professional bikers with their bright skintight shirts, shorts and helmets. These bikers try to race my car, but I always win. Other bikers are casually riding with no helmet on while some have a small cart attached to the back with a child sitting in it. I am not against people riding bikes on a busy road and I have no problem “Sharing the Road” but I do mind it when people ride their bike directly on the bike lane line or even in the road near the cars. I begin to get very nervous and am forced to drive in the wrong lane until I completely pass the biker. I move back into the correct lane and look into my rearview mirror to make sure he or she is still alive. I breathe a sigh of relief when I can see that the person is still on their bike.
After I drive up a hill with poorly placed crosswalks at the top where someone will probably get run over, I wait at an intersection on South Pleasant Street in Downtown Amherst and Amherst College is on the right. People are crossing the street, people are jogging, and people are talking to other people, talking on cell phones or maybe just talking to themselves. People are being people. The traffic light turns green and I drive—when no one is walking through the five crosswalks—past the small and independent restaurants, bars and businesses with clever names like The Souper Bowl, Food for Thought Books and the Toy Box. As I pass the shops, I think about going inside because I have only gone into a handful of them.
I reach the end of 116 and turn left onto North Pleasant Street and am in the city within the city of Amherst known as UMass. I continue to drive straight onto Massachusetts Avenue and play a game of stop and go through the six crosswalks. At the intersection, I turn right onto Commonwealth Avenue and slowly—due to the UMass police officers’ urging—pass by the construction of the new campus buildings which will not be finished until after I graduate. On my left I see the Athletic Fields and the Mullins Center. I drive through the final set of traffic lights of my commute and turn left into Parking Lot 25. After I find a suitable space, I park my car, turn off the engine and look at the clock. It is now 9:45 (15 minutes later than the approximate travel time due to traffic) and I am fully refreshed and ready for the day ahead of me at UMass.