The Road Taken

When it comes to Interstate 4 and its half-century history through Orlando, few motorists have spoken the language of love. Will I-4 Ultimate improve our relationship with the asphalt behemoth? Maybe. But it could take a toll.

- Dan Tracy

March 8, 1965, was so unseasonably cold in Orlando that Gov. Haydon Burns stuffed his speech in a pocket, said a few quick words, then cut a ribbon near the west side of Lake Ivanhoe to mark the official opening of Interstate 4.

A little later, Burns talked at length during a catered luncheon, proclaiming that I-4 would usher in an era of unprecedented change and prosperity for the City Beautiful, which had fewer than 100,000 residents at the time and was known primarily as the hub of the state’s behemoth citrus industry.

His prediction largely came true, but Burns also knew what only a few select people were in on: Walt and Roy Disney were buying 27,000 acres in Orange and Osceola counties with the intent of building a theme park that would transform metro Orlando from a largely agrarian-based economy to the tourism capital of the world.

One of the reasons the brothers Disney were interested in the area was because it was at the crossroads of the brand new I-4 and Florida’s Turnpike, giving the planned attraction access to motorists from north, south, east and west.

Orlando, as we well know, now hosts a plethora of theme parks and draws 66 million visitors annually—all of them beholden to I-4, which in the last 52 years has become the road we love to hate.

The 139-mile highway that links Florida’s east and west coasts, with Orlando in the middle, has become part of our collective identity. It permeates the news with dispatches of wrecks and interminable backups, dominating drive-time updates. No one likes to drive on it, although almost all of us do, typically more than we care to admit. And we always talk about it, much like an annoying neighbor or relative you can’t shake from your life or consciousness.