As a former high school athlete -- talk about an exclusive club, eh? -- I have finely honed reflexes that enabled me to swerve and avoid the deadly beast.

Naw, I wasn't on safari on the Serengeti; I was driving and trying to make a left turn off Martin Luther King Jr. Parkway on to Archdale Drive in Durham when the big cat -- it looked to be about a 2005 or 2006 sedan -- came over the hill and almost collided with my right rear bumper.

It's no exaggeration to say that the weeds on some parts of the Triangle's highways and roads would be more appropriate on African plains than separating road and highway lanes.

They are so overgrown in some places that they create not only an eyesore, but also -- as in the case just cited -- a safety hazard.

The section of King Parkway is the city of Durham's responsibility, and Kevin Lilly assured me that a crew is scheduled to be out there mowing away today. Lilly, facilities operations manager for Durham's General Services Department, said "maintenance had dropped off last year because of water restrictions, but our crews are staying current on mowing" now.

"The state doesn't maintain at the same rate as municipalities," he said.

While cities try to cut the grass on medians every two or three weeks, he said, the state cuts "every four to six months on numbered highways."

If you've driven on certain stretches of numbered highways 15-501 or 70 -- especially between Raleigh and Durham -- lately, you know attempting a left turn any place other than at a light is a dangerous proposition. You have to pull out so far to see around the bushes in some places that you instantly create a danger for others and yourself.

How'd this situation come to be, especially in a state that was once lauded for its attractive roadways and highways, where you were more likely to see daylilies, red poppies and crape myrtles than litter and weeds?

DeWayne Sykes, assistant state roadway design engineer with the state Department of Transportation, said North Carolina is different from most states when it comes to taking care of roads. "Eighty percent of our roads are state-maintained," he said. "Any time you get outside a city limit, that's our responsibility. That gives you some continuity so you don't get poor counties with poorly maintained roads."

With money scarce, presumably because people aren't driving as much and hence aren't buying as much gas -- the tax on which helps maintain our roads and roadsides -- it may seem indulgent to decry their lack of aesthetic appeal.

It is not just aesthetics, though, and the state could find itself paying big bucks if, say, someone gets hurt in a crash that can be proven to be the result of road or median negligence.

"If we were not maintaining as per our policy, then yes, we might be legally liable," Sykes said, "but if it can be shown that the driver shared in the responsibility because of something he or she did wrong, then the state would be absolved."

Even if it isn't legally responsible, the state is morally obliged to maintain our roads and medians to make it safe for us to drive.

The policy on when to mow, for instance, needs to be updated since, as any homeowner knows, rain can make even a manicured lawn resemble the Serengeti. The state needs to ensure that the only jaguars we encounter suddenly are those we see on safari.