On that trip in ‘77, just north of Fort Pierce, Florida, my family was forced to abandon I-95 for another route. Not because of traffic or an accident but because the rest of the interstate did not exist. This practically broke my young mind. Turns out, officials couldn't figure out where to put the rest of the route, and I-95 wasn’t officially completed until 10 years later, on December 19, 1987. Even then, the national interstate system would not be finished as originally planned for another five years. It was a complicated journey.

In 1939, a congressional report recommended a "system of direct interregional highways, with all necessary connections through and around cities, designed to meet the requirements of the national defense in time of war and the needs of a growing peacetime traffic of longer range." It wasn’t until 1956, however, that Congress passed the Federal-Aid Highway Act, which provided funding and specified national standards: An interstate in Maine would be built and signed just like one in Arizona. This was the vision for the Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways, and when Ike’s pen signed it into law, that bill pen changed America forever.

Two events shaped Eisenhower's beliefs about the need for a national road network. The first was in 1919, when then-Lt. Colonel Eisenhower took part in a U.S. Army Motor Transport Corps convoy from Washington, D.C., to Oakland, California. That's a drive that can be made inside of a week on today's interstates, but at that time it took 62 days. The second event was during his tenure as Supreme Commander of Allied Forces in Europe in World War II. He saw how easily the German Reichsautobahn system moved both troops and civilians around Germany.

While people debate which was the very first segment of the interstate highway system — St. Charles, Missouri, or Topeka, Kansas? — the last completed segment is famous. On October 14, 1992, the Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways was deemed complete in Glenwood Canyon, Colorado. This was arguably the most technically challenging portion of the entire 46,876 mile system. Glenwood is a canyon carved by the Colorado River, whose walls rise up to 2,000 feet, leaving little space for a four-lane highway. While no freeway is really a single road, I-70 through Glenwood is a “network of viaducts, bridges, and tunnels constructed through an extraordinarily narrow, environmentally sensitive gorge.” It's also one of the most beautiful places on the interstate system, though some argue it is less beautiful for the busy roadway that now passes through it.

There were always concerns that new interstates would allow travelers to forgo driving through small towns, thus cutting off commerce that could help communities flourish. Less obvious were the effects highways would have on cities. Much of the land claimed to build freeways in urban centers used eminent domain to seize territory from majority-Black neighborhoods. Freeways then carved these neighborhoods to pieces in places like St. Paul, Minnesota, Chattanooga, Tennessee, New Orleans and Miami. Meanwhile, San Francisco was home to the “freeway revolt.”

The primacy of personal vehicles and smooth highways, the sprawl of homes and offices, and insufficient investment in public transit to keep pace with growth meant that in the late-20th century, the share of workers commuting alone in personal vehicles rose steeply. By 2019, before the COVID-19 pandemic, almost 76% of U.S. workers commuted alone in personal vehicles. Meanwhile, transportation accounts for 27% of U.S. greenhouse gas emissions, the most of any sector.

You might know that more than one million animals die every year on American roadways, but you may not know that watching for wildlife offers benefits for your mental health, according to Psychology Today. Cultivating a sense of compassion for the prairie dogs eking out a life beside a highway, or for a turtle moving determinedly toward a cool drink, can enrich our appreciation of the world around us, and even for our commute. And compassion begets compassion. We may find that showing kindness toward animals allows us to be more generous with other people, and with ourselves, too. In addition to endangering animals’ lives, highways bisect wildlife habitat and create smaller gene pools, which leads to inbreeding and harms the overall ecosystem. Just last month, work began on the world’s largest wildlife crossing: an overpass on US-101 in the western San Fernando Valley, intended to reduce wildlife and human fatalities, and to reconnect the habitat north and south of the 10-lane freeway.

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While we're approaching the 30th anniversary of the completion of the interstate system as it was originally planned, new interstates – such as a roadway across northern New Mexico and Texas – are in the works. Meanwhile, the American Rescue Plan Act (a.k.a. the COVID-19 stimulus package) has provided funds for more than $350 billion in infrastructure projects, including roads. Prior to the ARPA, some lobbyists were pushing back against the one-size-fits-all approach to road design that dates back to Eisenhower. “There are 50 different states with 50 different sets of transportation challenges. What is right for one may not be right for another,” Dave Bauer, CEO of the American Road & Transportation Builders Association, told POLITICO.

Two-digit interstates, such as I-35 or I-70, are major highways. Three-digit interstates are local and have a code: If the first digit is odd, it’s a spur that goes into a city. If the first digit is even, it’s a loop around a city, often referred to as a beltway. Interstates that run east-west have even numbers, and the lowest number (I-10) is in the southern U.S., while the highest (I-90) is in the north. Meanwhile, those that run north-south have odd numbers, with the lowest (I-5) in the west. This system was intended to be the opposite of the pre-existing United States Numbered Highway System, but like most things in life, the rules aren’t absolute.

My own affinity for roads and maps has never ended. I've taken road trips all over the country and, as a professional photographer, I always bring along my camera gear. My favorite trip was back in 2002, when I visited 11 western states and went whitewater rafting. It was a time before streaming and, as a diehard New York Yankees fan, I lugged my entire DirecTV system (yes, including the dish) so I could watch the games wherever I stopped.

Tell us about your favorite road trip — and whether you think the U.S. can or should change its reliance on private vehicles and interstate highways.

Share your thoughts with us at OzyCommunity@Ozy.com.