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A century ago,
hard-topped roads leading from the industrial downtowns of America stopped at the city
lines. There, as in ancient cities, another world began. Amid weeds and cornfields,
dirt paths snaked outward. During dry weather, people ventured forth in their
horse-drawn wagons, but in rainy seasons those foolish enough to brave the mud soon found
themselves mired up to their hubs. And as they sat and fumed, smoky locomotives and
electric interurban trains streaked by, carrying passengers and produce in to the bustling
depots.
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In
the early twentieth century, bicycles and automobiles changed all that and caused a
national clamor for good roads. Railroad depredations had poisoned the well of
public opinion, and rail owners came to view angry governments as, at best, an obstacle in
their path. The motor industry, which the public embraced as an alternative to the
hated rails, viewed government as a partner in progress. This contrast spelled doom
for the iron horse and untold prosperity for the horseless carriage.
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By the 1920's, a powerful force had evolved, wedding road builders and the motor industry, in
which government and business Joined happily in promoting as a national policy one mode of
travel over all others. The highway-motor complex coalesced automakers, cement,
asphalt, steel producers, and petroleum companies into a common purpose. Along
the way, it added such diverse groups as road contractors, insurance companies, banks, and
motel operators, to name but a few. The highway advocates became so dominant in
American life that they were instrumental in changing the character of cities and helping
to suburbanite the nation. And as the highway-motor complex eventually came to
employ one of every six American workers, it became self-perpetuating by making the
economy dependent on its continued health. - Stephen B. Goddard from his preface to "GETTING
THERE" The Epic Struggle between Road and Rail.
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