The Corpse of a Toll Road …

Washoe County’s Spanish Springs Citizen Advisory Board (CAB) Meeting on Wednesday, May 7, 2025.

In the bustling metropolis of Sparks, Nevada, a peculiar political drama unfolds—one that gives new meaning to the phrase "the road less traveled." Mayor Ed Lawson's prized toll road bill, once the crown jewel of his infrastructure vision, now lies in legislative purgatory, thoroughly defeated in the halls of the Nevada Legislature. Yet, like a determined door-to-door salesman who refuses to acknowledge the "No Soliciting" sign, Mayor Lawson continues his crusade for concrete.

This could be called the dead duck road show, despite the bill's resounding defeat and widespread opposition from the very residents who would presumably use this toll road (or more accurately, avoid it), Mayor Lawson's pitch remains undeterred. His toll road may be legislatively dead, but in the theater of Sparks politics, it shambles on like a zombie infrastructure project, refusing to accept its fate.

Enter Commissioner Clara Andriola, the beneficiary of Lawson's political benediction during her successful election campaign. In what observers describe as a masterclass in political choreography, Andriola has graciously offered Lawson prime real estate on her Citizens Advisory Board meeting agenda. The topic? His defunct toll road, naturally.

"It's a fascinating study in political reciprocity," notes one local political analyst who asked to remain anonymous to avoid being seated next to either official at the next Chamber of Commerce luncheon. "The Commissioner gets to repay a political debt while the Mayor gets to resuscitate his pet project, albeit temporarily. It's symbiotic politics at its finest."

What remains unclear to many Sparks residents is how rehashing a failed toll road proposal serves Andriola's constituents. The question hangs in the air like exhaust fumes over a rush hour intersection: Is this public service or simply political payback?

"We elected officials to represent our interests, not to create a mutual admiration society," wrote a longtime Sparks resident who sent us this notification from the Spanish Spring CAB. "I'm still waiting to hear how a toll road that couldn't pass legislative muster suddenly becomes worthy of precious advisory board time."

The 2026 Triangle: A Love Story with Political Complications

Adding another layer to this asphalt-laden saga is the looming 2026 mayoral race. Or as we like to call it the ‘2026 Triangle” with Andriola, Lawson, and Bybee. Political observers are already speculating about where Commissioner Andriola's loyalties will ultimately lie. Will she publicly endorse Mayor Lawson's reelection bid, cementing their political alliance? Or will personal connections trump political expediency?

Councilmember Charlene Bybee, who is termed out of her current position and reportedly a close friend of Commissioner Andriola, is said to be measuring the drapes in the mayor's office. This creates what political scientists refer to as a "fascinating personal-political conundrum" and what everyone else calls "awkward holiday dinner conversation."

As this political melodrama continues to unfold in Sparks, citizens might wonder if they're watching a civics lesson or a telenovela. The toll road that voters didn't want and legislators wouldn't approve has transformed from an infrastructure project into a litmus test of political loyalties.

Perhaps Sir Walter Scott said it best: "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to... build unnecessary toll roads."

In Sparks, Nevada, the road to political success might be paved with good intentions, but it apparently also requires a healthy dose of persistence in the face of legislative defeat, a strategic exchange of political favors, and the ability to navigate romantic relationships that intersect with political ambitions.

One thing remains certain: while Mayor Lawson's toll road may never materialize, the political mileage extracted from its corpse continues to accumulate.

Previous
Previous

Blue Lights, Cold Shoulder

Next
Next

When a $27 Million Deficit Meets a Gala Luncheon, and Nobody Sees the Irony