Two Speeds, One Valley: The Relatable Frustrations of Driving Grand Junction’s Busy Streets

I don't know exactly when this happened, but somewhere along the way Grand Junction became home to two completely different driving cultures.

There's no middle ground anymore.

You're either behind someone treating Patterson Road like a scenic wine tour at 25 mph, or you're being passed by someone who seems convinced they're qualifying for the Daytona 500.

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The speed limit, apparently, is just a fun little number on a sign.

Welcome to the Slow Roll Society

You know the driver.

They're doing 25 in a 35. They gently tap the brakes for curves that don't actually curve. They leave enough room between themselves and the next car to fit a small cattle ranch.

I've started wondering if they're seeing a different set of speed limit signs than the rest of us.

Maybe there's a secret version that says, "35... but only if you're feeling adventurous."

The strangest part is watching an entire line of cars form behind them. Nobody can pass. Nobody can escape. We're all just participating in an involuntary parade down North Avenue.

Then There's the Other Guy

Every town has one.

Grand Junction has... several.

The light turns green, and they're gone before you've even finished moving your foot from the brake. If you're already doing the speed limit, they're somehow still close enough to read the expiration date on your license plate sticker.

Then they whip around everyone, race to the next intersection, and we all end up sitting next to each other at the same red light anyway.

Congratulations on saving 2.8 seconds.

The Roads Where Reality Breaks

Grand Junction Traffic

Some roads seem to amplify this phenomenon.

Patterson Road: Somehow both too slow and too fast at the exact same time.

North Avenue: Every traffic light becomes an emotional support stop.

29 Road: Where speed consistency goes to retire.

Horizon Drive: Tourists trying to find hotels mixed with locals trying to get literally anywhere.

It's honestly impressive that one stretch of road can contain someone doing 10 under, someone doing five over, and someone aggressively changing lanes because neither option is acceptable.

Read More: WTF, Grand Junction: This Traffic Light Was Put in for Safety, But It Looks Like a Hazard

My Extremely Unofficial Study

After years of scientific observation, also known as sitting at red lights muttering to myself, I've identified four native Grand Junction driver species.

The Scenic Cruiser: "What's the hurry? The Book Cliffs aren't going anywhere."

The Phantom Braker: Brakes because another car exists within a quarter mile.

The Green-Light Rocket: Believes every intersection is a drag strip.

The Tailgater: Convinced occupying your trunk will somehow increase your horsepower.

Robert Grant Photos, Care of Townsquare Media

I'm not saying any of us are innocent.

I've probably been every one of these at some point.

Can We Make a Deal?

I'm not asking everyone to become robots who drive exactly the posted speed every second of every trip.

Life happens. Traffic happens. Construction happens. Someone's trying to find 2345 1/2 25 1/4 Rd.

But maybe, just maybe, we could all agree that the number on the sign isn't merely decorative.

Because somewhere between crawling through town and launching toward Fruita like you're late for the Tour of the Moon, there's a sweet spot.

I think they call it the speed limit.