They’re out there, a whole lot of them. A month or so ago, they weren’t there, lurking, silent, just waiting for the unsuspecting. Then things changed, and not for the better. That was good for them. It was bad for us.
As we go about our daily commute, they await us. Scattered about, here and there, like land mines, they wait for the unknowing. What could they be, these lethal pits that can be very costly?
What else but potholes?
Blame the polar vortex. Point fingers at the nasty freezing and the rapid thawing. There is no one to blame for this latest proliferation of tire consumers. The weather? Perhaps, but can you shake your fist at the wind?
I have watched dutiful road maintenance workers shovel black material into gaping road holes. Seems there is nothing permanent about such asphalt fill. We ought to rename that black stuff “paycheck dirt.” Why? How long does a paycheck last? There that’s the answer.
As I ponder my future into the magical age of 65 in August, I have been conjuring up ways to make retirement money from potholes. There must be a way to fix them so the next rain doesn’t wash away that “paycheck dirt.” I have considered, for example, what the dentist does filling a cavity. First, they drill way down to get rid of all the bad stuff. Then, they dry it out, fully and completely. Next they call for something magical to prep the area for what comes next. Then, they load up the cavity with hard stuff, push it down, and, if needed, shove more into the hole.
Finally, they smooth it over, and it’s good for another thousand chews, including hard pretzels and pizza crust.
Maybe that’s my golden road out of the newsroom, paved by “paycheck dirt” and a new way to rid the world of those darn potholes.
Having never resided up north, I have only heard of dreaded things known as “frost heaves.” I suspect they are as troublesome to drivers on those New England highways and by-ways as potholes are here in the Southland.
I’ve also wondered what potholes could not be filled with quick-drying cement. Probably a cost thing, but, as Mom used to like to say, “Where there’s a will there’s a way.”
In the meantime, we must be very cautious where we drive. Be alert to the car ahead of you. If they swerve left or right (and it’s not caused by them yakking away on a cellphone) it’s probably a good indication that they’re avoiding a pothole.
Like stomach pains, potholes happen in the darnedest places. For instance, right smack in the middle of Barbie Lane, just off Dias Creek Road is a “young” pothole. How it got there, who knows? Still, it’s to be avoided like a rattlesnake.
Curves seem to be another place where potholes congregate. Why that is so could be a reason to fritter away a few million dollars in federal study grants to New Jersey Institute of Technology. Maybe some chap with a Ph.D. could write a proposal to find out, study, then pen a scholarly paper on why potholes happen more frequently on curves than regular road surfaces. Is that crazy or what? No worse than other studies they squander tax money on, like the sex drive of grasshoppers or how butterflies know which way is South.
Being an editor makes a person suspect of everybody and everything. I’ve even wondered if, at night, some fellows who own road paving firms don’t ride down the road and tap a tiny hole in the road, stuff it with ice and race away. That would be like a teeny bit of sugar resting on tooth enamel. Left long enough, under the right conditions, pretty soon there’s a cavity. The same could hold true for potholes.
Get enough taxpayers ticked off at paying for new tires or balancing their cars’ front ends, let them Spout Off or, worse, show up in person at a municipal meeting, and I bet the next thing you’d see would be bids going out to repave the road.
Are we spoiled? Yes. Across this great land there are many places where “roads” are semi-defined dirt paths through miles of country. All that would be required in such a place is to scrape the surface and potholes would vanish. We, of course, would never stand for such indignities here in Cape May County. We want our cake, eat it, lots of it, and not gain a single ounce, then want someone else to pay for the cake.
Maybe small rocks are the answer. Fill those potholes with little rocks, pour in some Gorilla glue and that would be the last time it would consume a tire.
Until I patent my method of repairing potholes, the guys who toss “paycheck dirt” into those unholy holes will have steady jobs. We’ll curse potholes when we hit them (even if we are even-tempered folks), and vow that we will remember where the holes are so that “next time” we will avoid them. Next ride down the road, we hit ‘em again, curse again, and wonder when someone will fix the holes.
Until next week, drive with caution, put away your cellphone when you’re behind the wheel, and think up ways to get rich by filling potholes.
Cape May – Governor Murphy says he doesn't know anything about the drones and doesn't know what they are doing but he does know that they are not dangerous. Does anyone feel better now?
