|
Home Search |
Published on Sunday, January 26, 2003
in the Miami Herald
Few people refer to Trooper Felipe Corrales by his real name. Around the Broward headquarters of the Florida Highway Patrol, he's known as the Mayor of Alligator Alley.
On an afternoon in January, the trooper cruises down the 100-mile stretch connecting Naples and Weston which has, in just three weeks time, been the site of three high-profile SUV rollover fatalities. His speedometer creeps past the 70-mph speed limit, an allowance he gives himself and other drivers battling the natural tendency to race along this endlessly straight road.
A fit man with thick prescription sunglasses, Corrales has spent all of his 25 years with the Florida Highway Patrol assigned to this portion of Interstate 75. He can recite the exact mile marker where accidents occurred a decade ago and describe them in the kind of detail that's not for the squeamish.
''It's a long time to drive on a very boring road without pit stops. That's where the speed comes from,'' Corrales said. 'I caught a guy going 130 mph in a new Jag once. When I pulled him over, he was laughing, like `Oh, you got me,' like it was a game, like it was funny to him.''
Although Corrales is quick to claim that the Alley is is no more dangerous than Interstate 95, it's hard to deny the road's drawbacks. Because it runs through protected swampland, the straight-shot road has no billboards or roadside buildings to relieve the eye. When night falls, there are few lights.
The Alley's four lanes are separated by a grassy median, and on both sides are canals sprouting aquatic weeds along their edges, making the landscape as monotonous as a Kansas road trip.
There are few opportunities for U-turns without fear that those speeding behind you will have enough time to brake.
There are also only two staffed rest stops and a single gas station between the Weston and Naples tollbooths, making it difficult to fill depleted gas tanks or get help in the case of breakdowns.
If a driver is unlucky enough to be stranded between mile markers 33 and 39, their cellphone might not work, depending on their service provider.
A driver's best bet is to look for an FHP blue call box affixed to poles every half mile. With cars speeding by, walking along a narrow shoulder to one of these boxes is not a hike most people want to take.
Many crashes on Alligator Alley involve tourists, people unaware of these deficiencies. As a result, they often reach the midpoint of the Alley. Tired, frustrated, almost out of gas, they slam on the accelerator.
Corrales eases his Crown Victoria cruiser to the shoulder, its tires rattling over speed tracks meant to wake a drowsing driver. Cars whiz past him in both directions, ignoring his marked car. Speeders, whether they're going 15 or 50 miles over the limit, are slapped with a $271 ticket, dozens of which are written weekly.
The Florida Highway Patrol does not keep track of the number of collisions that occur specifically on the Alley because, as Lt. John Bagnardi put it, ``It's not a problem with the road. It's a problem with the drivers.''
''There have been three high-profile rollovers [this year], but we have a rollover about every day,'' Bagnardi said. Battling high trooper turnover caused by low salary, FHP struggles to put more than two officers on the road at one time. ``We've tried decoy cars [to deter speeders] and borrowing officers from Palm Beach and Dade, but with limited officers, we can only do so much.''
A sample of Herald stories from 1999 to 2003 shows about 15 accidents with multiple fatalities occurring on the Alley, several of them SUV rollovers. Some vehicles wound up in canals, where, gruesomely, alligators carried off bodies.
June 2002 was a particularly bad month, with seven deaths resulting from two accidents on the same day -- including a husband, wife and their two sons, ages 8 and 2.
In January of that year, three people died and 13 others were injured in chain-reaction wrecks blamed on dense fog and an earlier accident. Shut down in both directions for hours, the Alley's shoulder looked in a junkyard of twisted cars and spilled cargo.
This January has also been a bad month. On New Year's Day, an SUV crash killed three siblings of the Kali family -- Shadia Rene, 24; Felix, 14; and Felicienne, 11. The accident made national news when U.S. Senate majority leader-designate and surgeon Bill Frist, traveling a few cars behind the Kalis, stopped to assist paramedics.
Less than two weeks later, 18-year-old Justin Rummel died when his SUV rolled over.
Last Monday, a 42-year-old woman from Olathe, Kansas, suffered incapacitating injuries when a Miami man drove into her path from an emergency lane along Mile Marker 53.
In addition to fog, the roadway has been plagued by brush fires. Last May, blazes burned thousands of acres adjacent to the Alley, causing authorities to close the road periodically.
Despite its reputation for danger, the Alley is still a ''fantastic old road,'' to former Miami Heat television analyst Jack Ramsey, who commuted from his home in Naples to Miami games for eight years. Ramsey, now 77, covered the 125-mile trip in two hours. He remembers 1991, the year he began his trips, when the road was just two lanes.
''That was dangerous, mostly because cars were speeding,'' he said. ``I was driving to a game once and saw a car approaching me quickly in the rearview mirror. I was doing at least 65, but he was doing much greater. I pulled over a lane to give him room. He must have been going 90 or 100.''
The driver swerved, lost control of his car, spun into oncoming traffic and landed in a canal. 'When I got to the tollbooth about a mile away, I let the toll taker know, but he didn't seem at all concerned. He said, `Well, those things happen. They'll find 'em.' ''
Although Ramsey isn't on the road as much anymore, if given a choice, says he would jump on I-75 before Interstate 95 any day.
''People drive crazy on I-95. You have to really be on top of your car there,'' he said.
Corrales would advise the same on Alligator Alley. ''Stay prepared, fuel up, and pay attention,'' he said. ``It's a longer drive than you think.''