New York State Route 117 (NY 117) is a 15.57-mile (25.06 km) state highway in Westchester County, New York, in the United States. The southern terminus of the route is at an intersection with U.S. Route 9 (US 9) north of the village of Sleepy Hollow. The northern terminus is at an interchange with the Saw Mill River Parkway south of Katonah, a hamlet in the town of Bedford. NY 117 meets the Taconic State Parkway in Pleasantville and parallels the Saw Mill Parkway from Pleasantville to Bedford.
NY 117 was assigned as part of the 1930 renumbering of state highways in New York and originally extended from Tarrytown to Katonah. The Tarrytown–Pleasantville portion of NY 117 passed through Kykuit, the estate of the Rockefeller family. Construction on a new limited-access highway bypassing the estate to the north began in the late 1960s and was completed in 1971, at which time NY 117 was realigned to follow the highway. Another highway bypassing Katonah was built in the early 1990s and opened c. 1992 as a realignment of NY 117.
Read more about New York State Route 117: Major Intersections, See Also
Famous quotes containing the words york, state and/or route:
“The death of William Tecumseh Sherman, which took place to-day at his residence in the city of New York at 1 o’clock and 50 minutes p.m., is an event that will bring sorrow to the heart of every patriotic citizen. No living American was so loved and venerated as he.”
—Benjamin Harrison (1833–1901)
“The last public hanging in the State took place in 1835 on Prince Hill.... On the fatal day, the victim, a man named Watkins, peering through the iron bars of his cell, and seeing the townfolk scurrying to the place of execution, is said to have remarked, ‘Why is everyone running? Nothing can happen until I get there.’”
—Administration for the State of Con, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)
“By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of space—out of time.”
—Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)