Stroads are ugly, expensive, and dangerous (and they're everywhere) [st05]

Most urban planners talk about traffic congestion as a puzzle of volume and capacity. Jason Slaughter argues it is actually a design flaw so fundamental that it is actively bankrupting North American cities. His piece doesn't just critique bad roads; it exposes a systemic category error where the built environment fails to distinguish between moving cars and hosting life, creating a hybrid that is dangerous, expensive, and useless for everyone.

The Category Error

Slaughter begins by dismantling the assumption that all paved surfaces serve the same purpose. He draws a sharp line between a "road," which is a high-speed connector designed for efficiency, and a "street," which is a complex, slow-speed environment designed for human activity. The problem, he argues, is the "stroad"—a portmanteau of street and road that functions as neither. "Stroads are a street road hybrid and they are dangerous, expensive, and ineffective," Slaughter writes. This framing is crucial because it shifts the blame from individual driver behavior to the physical infrastructure itself.

The author uses a potent analogy to illustrate the futility of this design: "Just like how a futon converts from a terrible uncomfortable couch to a terrible uncomfortable bed, the Strode is the futon of transportation." This comparison lands effectively because it highlights the inherent contradiction in trying to serve two opposing masters with a single tool. By attempting to be a high-speed thoroughfare while also providing direct access to every business and driveway, the stroad creates a chaotic environment where high-speed traffic collides with frequent turning movements. As Slaughter notes, "High-speed traffic is not compatible with lots of human activity, so vehicle speeds are reduced."

"The strode fails at being a street. There are many driveways to businesses and homes like you'd find on a street but mixed with multiple highwaysized lanes."

Critics might argue that this design was a rational response to the post-war explosion of automobile ownership and the need to connect sprawling suburbs. However, Slaughter counters that the result is a system that is inefficient even for the drivers it was meant to serve. The wide lanes and straight paths encourage speeding, but the constant entrances and exits force drivers to brake repeatedly. "Nobody is getting anywhere quickly on a strode," he observes, pointing out that the very features intended to increase speed—wide clear zones and minimal obstructions—actually create a false sense of security that leads to more severe crashes when conflicts inevitably arise.

The Safety Paradox

The most alarming part of Slaughter's analysis is the data on fatality rates. He points out that the design of stroads is the primary reason the United States has the most dangerous roads among developed nations. The logic is perverse: the infrastructure encourages high speeds, but the density of conflict points makes high-speed travel impossible without catastrophic results. "On a strode, these wide highwaylike designs encourage drivers to drive quickly. But combining that with traffic turning in and out of driveways and lots of four-way junctions makes this the most dangerous type of urban driving possible."

Slaughter highlights a disturbing trend from the pandemic era to prove his point. Even when traffic volumes plummeted, fatality rates per mile driven surged. "During the coronavirus lockdowns in the first 9 months of 2020, car volumes in the US dropped significantly. But despite an estimated 355 billion fewer miles driven, fatal crashes per mile actually increased by up to 34%." This evidence suggests that the danger is not merely a function of how many cars are on the road, but how the road is built. The only thing preventing a higher death toll, Slaughter argues grimly, is that traffic is often so congested that drivers cannot reach the speeds the road design invites.

"The only reason these unsafe American stros aren't killing even more people regularly is because they're usually so jammed up with traffic that drivers can't get going fast enough to kill each other."

This is a devastating indictment of the current planning paradigm. It suggests that the "safety" of American driving is an illusion maintained by gridlock, not by design. The infrastructure is literally hostile to pedestrians and cyclists, with Slaughter noting that "Traffic engineers are concerned about drivers hitting a tree. Hitting a cyclist is expected." This institutional mindset prioritizes the protection of the vehicle over the human, a choice that has profound ethical and social costs.

The Financial Suicide

Beyond safety, Slaughter makes a compelling economic argument: stroads are a fiscal disaster for municipalities. Because they are built to highway standards with wide lanes, shoulders, and extensive turning lanes, they require massive amounts of land and expensive maintenance. Yet, because they discourage walking, cycling, and transit, they force low-density development dominated by parking lots. "Parking lots don't employ anyone, and they don't earn much tax revenue either," he writes. The result is a mismatch where the cost of maintaining the infrastructure far exceeds the tax revenue generated by the land it occupies.

The author describes this as a "net negative for cities," creating a cycle of decline where cities must spend more to maintain these sprawling corridors while collecting less in return. "These places are literally putting American cities on the strode to financial ruin." This financial angle is often overlooked in debates about urban design, which tend to focus on aesthetics or congestion. Slaughter's analysis reveals that the stroad is not just ugly; it is an unsustainable financial model that threatens the solvency of local governments.

The Dutch Alternative

If the stroad is the problem, Slaughter offers a clear, proven solution by looking to the Netherlands. He details how the Dutch successfully implemented a three-tiered system that strictly separates functions: highways for high-speed travel, distributor roads for connecting neighborhoods, and local streets for access and living. "In the 1990s the Dutch adopted the concept of sustainable traffic safety and one of the key pillars of this program was that every road and street in the Netherlands has to be classified and designated as one of the following three options."

This approach eliminates the hybrid failure of the stroad. On a Dutch distributor road, direct access to properties is prohibited, forcing traffic to use side streets for access. This keeps the main road flowing smoothly and safely. "The road is designed to move vehicles, so there is no direct access to adjacent properties," Slaughter explains. Conversely, local streets are designed to be slow, narrow, and inviting, with traffic calming measures that naturally reduce speeds without the need for excessive signage or policing.

"This is a street. This is a road. This is a street. This is a road. This is a road with streets on either side to access houses."

The Dutch model demonstrates that it is possible to have efficient movement and vibrant local economies simultaneously, provided the infrastructure is designed with a clear purpose. Slaughter notes that in newer developments, the transition between these types is seamless and logical, creating a network that serves all users effectively. This stands in stark contrast to the American default, where every road tries to be everything and ends up being nothing.

Bottom Line

Jason Slaughter's argument is a masterclass in reframing a familiar problem: the stroad is not an accident of history but a deliberate design failure that compromises safety, economics, and quality of life. While critics might argue that retrofitting American cities to the Dutch model is politically and financially daunting, the piece makes it clear that the current path leads only to ruin. The strongest takeaway is that the solution lies not in adding more lanes or signals, but in making the hard choice to classify and design our infrastructure for its specific function.

"Stroads are a street road hybrid and they are dangerous, expensive, and ineffective."

The biggest vulnerability in the argument is the sheer scale of the challenge; shifting the mindset of a continent built on the stroad will require a political will that has been absent for decades. However, the evidence is undeniable: the status quo is a dead end, and the alternative is already working elsewhere. Cities that continue to build stroads are not just building bad roads; they are building their own financial and social obsolescence.