I’m thankful that I don’t live in Turner or Livermore.

Please put down your weapons. Didn’t mean it that way, honestly. Those communities are fantastic places to build a home, raise a family and enjoy the four seasons.

So what’s the problem? Well, I work in Lewiston, you see, and shop mostly in Auburn. There’s only one direct and sensible way to reach the Twin Cities from your fair towns.

And it isn’t safe.

On its best day, the Route 4 corridor connecting L-A to points north is a steady stream of 18-wheelers, tankers, logging trucks, sport utility vehicles and compact cars, steered by drivers young and old, armed with varying degrees of skill and patience.

Lorie Paradis of Livermore uses the two-lane highway at both ends of her daily commute throughout Maine and New Hampshire. She’s a sales and marketing professional who isn’t intimidated by much.

Except departing her driveway and entering our area’s version of a European autobahn.

“People know they can go fast and take full advantage,” Paradis said. “If you’re late for work, you know there’s a stretch where you can go 80 and nobody will care.”

Paradis has been involved in two accidents on that artery. Neither was her fault, and the last occurred six years ago.

She’s been lucky. Dozens have been seriously hurt or killed on Route 4 since Paradis’ last close encounter.

Scary stories

Neighbors believe much of the carnage is preventable. Paradis’ solution is for everyone to slow down and calm down and for Maine State Police and the Androscoggin County Sheriff’s Department to flag down more violators.

“I’ve driven past numerous fatal accidents,” Paradis said. “I bet I’ve seen more fatal accidents than I have police.”

There was only one way to challenge Paradis’ concerns. One random day last week, I used the scenic route to work and took the long way home.

It meant wiping the spectacles, tightening the seat belts, whispering a prayer and braving the 38-mile round trip from Lake Auburn to the Turner-Livermore line.

“I could tell you so many stories,” Paradis said.

Me too. Big-rig drivers who tailgate. Drivers who view residential areas no differently than a turnpike. Oodles of peer pressure to “keep up with the flow” of traffic at 65 or 70 mph.

Cops aren’t absent. I encountered two – one trooper, one county sheriff, both in the morning. They appeared to be on routine patrol, nothing resembling a speed trap.

At least they’re trying.

Turner doesn’t have a town police force. For every time one scofflaw sees flashing blue lights, scores get away with habitually dangerous behavior.

Get out of the way’

“People come up at 65 and get right on your bumper, almost push you off the road,” Paradis said. “You pump your brakes, they get mad and follow you home. There are so many road-rage issues. The attitude is, If you don’t like it, get out of the way.'”

Paradis commutes more than 1,000 miles each week and says she encounters more police presence in other troublesome rural areas.

Even in her kitchen, this road has eerie echoes.

“Our house is in a 40 mile-per-hour zone on Route 4 and people fly by at 65. And we’re on a curve,” Paradis said. “Trucks literally shake our house when they hit the bumps.”

There’s one shred of good news for Paradis and the neighbors. Now that the experiment is over, you won’t have to worry about me.

Actually, your main drag isn’t much different than Routes 202, 121, 100, 26 and others leading to Lewiston and Auburn.

Nothing collective common sense can’t fix.

Kalle Oakes is the Sun Journal’s columnist. His e-mail is [email protected].