When Robert Moses cut Riverdale in two by thrusting the Henry Hudson Parkway through its center, he at least provided the compensation of a handsome road that offered drivers a lovely view.

The Henry Hudson was landscaped with imagination and care. Split rail fences bordered its plantings, preserving a rustic feeling. The signs, too, were rustic and modest in size. The bridges that carried local traffic over the parkway were graceful archways faced in native stone: even Moses' most incisive critic, the biographer Robert Caro, marveled at them, calling them "little Moses masterpieces."

Eighty years later, the volume of traffic has increased exponentially, and the ambling speed limit that enticed drivers and their passengers to gaze about them with pleasure has given way to the urge to get to or away from the city as quickly as possible.

As a result, for the last half century, maintaining the parkway has not meant maintaining its beauty but increasing its capacity for traffic and speed. Each major renovation has been an act of civic vandalism, abetted, ironically, by well-meaning local politicians trying to serve their constituents in the way they know best - by procuring funds.

In 1979 Rep. Ted Weiss boasted proudly that he had been able to secure millions in federal highway money for a thorough renovation of the parkway. Then it turned out that the highway engineers intended to cut down 230 trees along the roadway. But they would plant some nice shrubs, they promised.

Riverdalians rebelled, and saved all but 30 of the trees; needless to say, the promised new plantings did not materialize. Instead, the most visible legacy of that overhaul is the abundance of massive green highway signs, designed for the Interstate system.