My fellow Americans, I have suggestion for you this summer of 2017: Avoid Interstate 70 westbound between downtown and the toll station a few miles past Kansas 7.
As you know, an almost unimaginable crash on I-70 at 174th Street (see map) took the lives of five people Tuesday. It was entirely preventable: An 18-wheeler being driven by a Texas man who was going too fast and not paying attention slammed into two vehicles, killing their occupants. His rig bulldozed on, pushing a third vehicle under another 18-wheeler, killing the occupant of the submerged vehicle.
The three vehicles that were on the receiving end of 56-year-old Kenny Ford’s “special delivery” were all at rest, stopped in traffic for construction just east of the toll station. (On the map, the toll station is where the eastbound and westbound lanes separate, just past 182nd Street.)
Ford has not yet been charged with any violations. It may be difficult to determine his speed because, from the way it sounds, there wasn’t much braking. A Kansas Highway Patrol lieutenant told The Star Ford “wasn’t paying attention ahead of him.” That makes me think he was doing one of three things — texting, playing dial-a-tune or dozing. Exactly what he was doing will probably come out at some point.
Being a curious sort, I felt compelled to drive out there Friday and see the crash site and surrounding area for myself.
What I found, both westbound and eastbound, scared the crap out of me.
…Driving westbound from Kansas City, before reaching K-7, I began noticing a slowdown in the eastbound lanes. Traffic was backing up, single file, amid dust and periodic bursts of orange cones. As I proceeded west, I saw that the eastbound tie-up extended at least two or three miles, and I decided that after I had finished my westbound reconnaissance, I would get off at the first possible exit and catch eastbound State Avenue to avoid the tie-up.
I was traveling about 65 in a 70 mph zone, and as I proceeded, several cars whizzed past me going 80 or more.
The numbered streets (174th, 182nd, for example) are not marked along the interstate, so I didn’t know exactly where 174th crossed. I was on the lookout, however, for “a slight rise,” a term that The Star had used in describing the location of the wreck.
In the general area where I thought the wreck took place, I came upon a gradual upswing and then, suddenly, I was there, traversing the spot where the crash had taken place. It was an ugly black patch, long and wide, and the wheels of my Ford Fusion rumbled as I crossed it. It was like driving over the world’s biggest scab.
About half a mile or so farther west, I came upon the construction zone — minimal on Friday, anyway — that had brought traffic to a dead halt three days earlier. That was just shy of the toll station. Wanting to make sure I had correctly identified the site of the wreck, I asked the toll clerk where it had occurred. “You missed it,” she said, pointing back to where I had just been.
By then, traffic was flowing normally in the eastbound lanes, across the highway. I took the Tonganoxie-Eudora exit and got back on I-70, now heading back toward town.
After clearing the toll booth again, I went along smoothly for maybe a half mile and then saw, not far ahead, indications of a significant wreck. Three vehicles were involved, and it could not have occurred more than four or five minutes before. Both eastbound lanes of I-70 were blocked because of debris in the roadway. Two cars, one badly damaged, were off in the ditch, and another was parked in the emergency lane. Two or three people were sitting on the hillside, above the ditch, and they were being comforted by several people who were standing. Fortunately, it didn’t look like anyone was seriously injured, and no sirens were sounding.
Once I cleared that wreck, I drove maybe half a mile before catching up to the eastbound slowdown I had seen on the trip out. Then it dawned on me: The wreck I had just passed had undoubtedly been triggered by one vehicle failing to stop in time for slowed or stopped traffic. Shades of Kenny Ford and his 18-wheeler three days earlier.
Crawling along, I got off a few minutes later at K-7 and went north to State Avenue. No problem there. The speed limit was 50, and traffic flowed freely in each direction. It was enjoyable, too. The sights I took in included Kansas Speedway, Children’s Mercy Park, CommunityAmerica Park and Cerner west. Seeing the massive racetrack facility reminded me how the KCK chamber of commerce’s “Our Hearts Are Racing” video had convinced Nascar officials, more than 15 years ago, to build in KCK — and how that led to the ensuing, incredible development at the northwest quadrant of I-435 and I-70 quadrant.
At I-435, I took a chance on being past the eastbound I-70 tie-up and got back on the turnpike. I had guessed right; the slowdown was now behind me.
At that point, I started watching the posted speed limit signs. At I-435 it was 70. At 78th Street, 70; at I-635, same. Not ’til I got to 18th Street Expressway, just six miles from downtown Kansas City, did it drop to 65.
…My fellow Americans, people drive too fuckin’ fast. And they don’t — sometimes can’t — slow down fast enough. The speed limits are way too high around our major metropolitan areas. In my opinion, it should be 60 within 25 miles of every big city’s downtown. That would be a good first step that would save a lot of lives.
Can’t we slow down… just a little…to save lives?
A lower speed limit west of K-7 might have saved the lives of the five souls Kenny Ford obliterated last Tuesday:
- Teresa J. Butler, 61, of Urbana, Illinois
- Karen L. Kennedy, 63, of New Palestine, Indiana
- Ricardo Mireles, 38, of Topeka, Kansas
- Sheldon Cohen, 83, of Topeka, Kansas
- Virginia Cohen, 79, of Topeka, Kansas
Kenny, of course, wasn’t seriously hurt; he was ridin’ high and wide when hurtling toward that construction zone.
JimmyCsays: At the juncture of journalism and daily life in KC 
Well said Jim. I’ve had my own scares on that stretch of I-70 including following a truck towing a trailer with a carnival ride when the trailer hitch broke. The carnival ride came barreling towards my car. Luckily I was paying attention and had noticed something looked strange with the way the trailer was weaving so I’d started to slow down to distance myself from the trailer. The driver didn’t even stop – too distracted to notice that his trailer was no longer behind the truck.
I’ve had neighborhood issues too including coming within just a couple feet of being run down by a distracted VW driver last summer. That incident permanently changed my walking habits.
https://43rdplace.wordpress.com/2016/09/25/not-a-mack-truck-after-all/
I remember Sheldon back in the 80’s when I was attending Washburn. Such a sad story on so many levels.
I remember your post, Kate, and was privileged to be the first person to comment on it after you published. I feel particularly bad about Sheldon and Virginia — a double blow to that family.
At the risk of sounding dramatic, I think you take your life in your hands in a car these days. I feel like an old fuddy-duddy, but I avoid the highways if possible. Not that the nuts aren’t on the surface streets, too, but at least the speed is (a bit) slower and the environs more appealing.
I’m through feeling like an old fuddy-duddy, Gayle. I’ve made it to 71 (the age, not the highway) and I want to go out naturally — not stuffed under an 18-wheeler by another 18-wheeler.
I’ve got the time to take routes that skirt the interstates as much as possible, and I’m going to start doing that even more than I have been.
For starters, I recently changed my route to my (public) golf course in Pleasant Hill. I now take I-49 (U.S. 71) south to MO 58; go east through Raymore; then pick up MO 291 south.
It’s a lot safer than my old route — I-435 to I-470 to U.S. 50 to 291. In town, I-49 seems a lot safer to me than 435 and 470, which are total raceways.
…I like your comment on the environs, too, as evidenced by my delight at driving past those breath-taking facilities at Village West in KCK.
Good reporting, Jim. I hear of a dozen or so of these type of accidents every summer.
Thanks, Tim…There’s a big down side to the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer…