Where the streets have no name

I keep hearing warnings that the traffic gets horribly congested in July and August, when the vacationers pour in. That's very believable. The roads here are not built to accommodate many vehicles -- I've yet to find anything wider than two lanes -- and they're not designed for convenience. In some places, it seems almost as if they were afterthoughts or necessary evils. The streets that run through many of the neighborhoods are one way and so narrow that you almost hold your breath anxiously if there are parked cars on the side. There's simply no room to spare.

At the same time, you would be hard-pressed to find drivers who are more courteous or considerate, sometimes to a fault. Instead of "driving defensively," as so many of us have been taught to do, the Vineyarders drive deferentially. They are happy to share the road (even though there's little road to share). They rarely keep two hands on the wheel because they need to have one hand free to wave to fellow drivers to signal that you're welcome to make that turn or to signal to pedestrians that it's perfectly OK to cross in front of them. "Who's in a hurry? Not me!" they seem to say. Or "I know I've got the right of way, but you go ahead. Please turn left in front of me whenever you feel like it."

There are almost no traffic lights on the island (I've found exactly one: on the bascule bridge connecting Oak Bluffs and Tisbury, and it's been green every time I crossed) and the speed limits range between 20 and 45 mph; most places are in the 30-35 mph range. The roads can be quite sinuous and curvy, with sharp turns and, particularly outside of business areas, hidden driveways. So getting around can be challenging. You have to keep a sharp eye out for the speed limit signs, which change regularly and, frustratingly, are sometimes semi-obscured by leafy tree branches.

But you can look all you like -- even borrow Superman's X-ray vision, if you like -- and you oftentimes will not find street signs. They just don't exist. Trying to use MapQuest to get around the island is almost futile because it will tell you to turn at a particular street and, unless you know exactly where it should be, the odds are excellent you won't find it. I have begun to think that when U2 wrote "Where the Streets Have No Name" they might have had Martha's Vineyard in mind.

The situation becomes even more complicated after dark because streetlights are nearly as rare as traffic lights. If the sun goes down and you're not near a town, you might want to think twice before starting off on a long walk or even a bike ride, unless you have been blessed with the eyes of a cat or an owl. There are areas that are really pitch-black, unless a car comes along. I have talked to people who've had to use their cell phones as makeshift flashlights to see what's in front of them. Yes, the lack of lights does mean that island residents get a rather spectacular view of the stars on a regular basis -- the Milky Way really glitters above us here -- but I've also heard from drivers who were scared out of their skin by the sight of a cyclist or a hitchhiker suddenly popping up out of the darkness.

There's another thing you should know: Hitchhiking here is perfectly acceptable, even commonplace. If there are laws against it, no one seems to be particularly keen to enforce them. Hardly a day passes when you don't see someone (often a teenager or someone of college age) sticking out his or her thumb to a passing driver. And yes, people happily stop and offer rides. It's all completely foreign to me, since I grew up watching movies like "Diary of a Teenage Hitchhiker," in which rides with strangers inevitably led to danger. On Martha's Vineyard, however, they're more likely to lead to Vineyard Haven, Edgartown, Oak Bluffs or the nearest bus stop. The word is that even sometime Vineyard resident James Taylor has been known to offer help to hitchhikers, so who am I to criticize?