Facing an Uncomfortable Truth About Speed Limits

When I was a kid, my family lived near a path system known as the “green strip.” The green strip is a swath of greenspace with a multi-use path that stretches over many blocks and connects the natural riverbottom area to one of the major city parks. It’s always full of folks walking, biking, and strolling with dogs, and along the way, there are various playgrounds, exercise equipment, and basketball courts. It would take us straight to the convenience store for Slurpees on a hot summer day, and to the city’s best sledding hill in the winter. It was great to grow up near this amenity, and it figures prominently in my childhood memories, because it was part of daily life and played a big role in much of my growing independence as I got around independently on foot and bike.

When I think of the green strip, there’s one particular association that really stands out, though. When leaving our home by car, we’d have to drive alongside it, through a playground zone where the speed limit was 30 km/h (20 mph). And as we slowed to drive through this zone, often my mum would remark that this was the only place she’d ever gotten a speeding ticket in her life. I haven’t lived in my hometown for more than 20 years, but still, when I drive that stretch, I reflexively check my speedometer.

Looking back, this was one of my earliest exposures to the assumption that “obeying the speed limit” equals “being safe.”

Like so many people in North America, I grew up with the ever-present shadow of road violence  looming over me. In my own family, we had first-hand experience with it. And so I was raised with a very strong sense that when you’re behind the wheel of a vehicle, you wield enormous and dangerous power. I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was almost 18. This was very late compared to most of my peers, who had been driving with learner’s licenses since they were 14. I was nervous about having that much power. I was afraid of the consequences of making mistakes. 

The interesting thing is how quickly you forget about that power once you’re behind the wheel.  It’s not even a conscious decision. I’ve always been a cautious driver (I have a distinct memory of my older brother ribbing me about “driving like a grandma”) and hate being a passenger with drivers who are last-minute brakers, sloppy signalers, or aggressive passers. But I can certainly recall times in my late teens of going well over the speed limit on the highway at the end of a weekend away, trying to make it home in time to start my shift at work. I cringe when I knowingly break rules that were drilled into me at driver’s ed all those years ago, while internally cursing other drivers who do the very same things. I know that, despite caring a lot about road safety, maybe even more than the average driver, I am nowhere near perfect. I am well aware that despite my intention to drive with care and attention, I could make a small mistake with enormous and irreversible repercussions.

We think driving should be a System 2 activity, but in most North American cities it’s just not. (Not familiar with Systems 1 and 2? Here’s a great explainer. )

There have been periods of my adult life where I drove primarily, or where I hardly drove at all, and both seemed fine at the time. These days it’s something sort of in the middle: sometimes once or twice a week, sometimes not for a few weeks at a time. One thing is for sure: The less I drive, the less used to it I am, and the less I enjoy doing it. It’s more stressful for me. I can’t maintain a conversation as easily. Plus, vehicles have gotten a lot bigger in the past 20 years and there are more of them. Yet despite all that, when I do drive, I find my System 2 thinking is in high gear for an alarmingly short time before System 1 takes over.

There are all sorts of people on the road behind the wheel. Young people whose developing brains don’t keep their sense of invincibility in check. People who are using devices, eating, trying to keep their cool while their kids have a meltdown in the back seat. People who are probably too old to be driving, but who cling to their license, because what is the alternative? People just getting from one place to another on a drive they do every day. There definitely seem to be a lot of yahoos on the road, but I think most people are probably pretty reasonable. No one wants to get hurt or hurt someone else. But no one is perfect. To keep imperfect humans safe, we need to design a transportation system for the humans we are, not the humans we wish we were, or think we should be.

Which brings me back to speed limits. For a long time, I believed that, with its more stringent playground and school zone laws, my small hometown was more sensible and virtuous than my current big urban center. And for an even longer time, I believed that if people would just be conscientious and follow the posted speed limit, they’d have nothing to worry about. People who complained about a speed trap where the photo radar police car could reliably be found along the same stretch of road were my personal worst. “Honestly,” I would think to myself, “If you KNOW there is a predictable speed trap there, maybe you should start being more careful, and then you won’t get a ticket.” 

Unpacking that now, I see a number of flaws in those beliefs:

1. That speed limits are even set to keep people safe, in the first place.

2. That, so long as everyone follows to speed limit, everyone will be safe.

3. That speed limits have much to do with how fast people actually drive and whether they behave like reasonable people behind the wheel.

It’s tricky to get past the idea that if we could just get vehicle speeds under control, everything would be safer. It’s so much more nuanced than that. In addition to speed, there are so many other dangerous driving behaviors that put people at risk. But the common element is that speed makes everything less forgiving. 

Now, the rule follower in me would like to point out that studies do show that even absent engineering changes or enforcement, posting lower speed limits can have an effect on vehicle speeds and safety. It’s just not nearly enough. That’s why lowering the posted speed is only a first step in achieving safer streets. In the words of NACTO, “Reducing the posted speed limit unlocks a variety of engineering and design tools that can further increase safety on a street and support other policy goals.”

The more time that goes by, the more I’ve come to see that the real issue is the fundamental mismatch of fast-moving cars and everyone else on city streets. And that the way we design streets and roads has a far greater impact on how drivers behave than speed limits, signage, flashing lights, or any other conventional tools to get drivers to comply. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

Years ago, before I had heard of Strong Towns, I was learning my way around Winnipeg. My husband drew my attention to a stretch of Archibald Street, where it was almost impossible not to inadvertently exceed the speed limit of 60 km/h. I realized right away how true it was. The road was wide and smooth and there was nothing much on either side. It all but begged you to drive faster. Grateful for the helpful reminder, I then thought about it every time I drove there.  But what cemented the reminder in my memory is the fact that one of my bridesmaids got a speeding ticket there on her way to our wedding.

In thinking about this sneaky “Archibald speedway,” I now have some tools to see the problems more clearly. Strong Towns gives me a lens to see what is wrong with the picture.

Of COURSE people are going to pick up speed here. Either inadvertently, or deliberately; in either instance, it’s because the design of the street tells them it’s safe to do so. It pretty much looks like a highway. It’s a long stretch without any intersections, and large clear zones. Maybe (and trust me, it pains me to say this!) the posted speed limit should actually be higher. 

And frankly, when I look at that playground zone in my hometown, I see similar problems. The lanes are very wide and straight. There may be some street parking allowed, but it’s rarely used. It doesn’t really look any different from any other residential block where the speed limit is 50km/h. Somewhat cruelly, even with the presence of trees, the long and uniform areas of greenspace on either side of the roadway might actually make drivers in this playground zone feel comfortable driving faster than they normally would in a residential area. 

On one side of this street is a playground and multi-use path. On the other, a movie theatre, restaurants, and retail. It’s completely expected that people, especially kids and seniors, will be crossing the street here on foot or bike. Off the top of my head, I think we could get drivers to slow down to 30 km/h or less by narrowing the lane width with curb extensions, planting more street trees close to the sidewalk (or maybe right on the street, within some chicanes), and installing continuous sidewalks at all the intersections.

As a person who likes to follow the rules, accepting that posted speed limits will not solve speeding problems or make a street safer has been one of the toughest things for me to embrace intellectually. 

Going back to my mum’s infamous playground zone speeding ticket: As a society, we’ve deemed it especially important to slow down vehicles in areas like this, where we expect there to be vulnerable users. But basically, all we do is put up a sign and hope for the best, which results in even extremely conscientious drivers winding up with speeding tickets. There’s something seriously wrong with this picture.

Whether the goal is to slow motorists down or let them quickly get from one place to another, it’s clear that posted speed limits without a design speed to match are doomed to fail at both.

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