A Jarring Experience

There have been some improvements to our infrastructure out here in Backroads.

A blacktop byway notorious for its rough surface received a major makeover last week. That section of road was a nightmare. The city had put in sewers or a drainage system under the road. The resulting patch job made the eighth-mile strip a cobbled conglomerate of differently-elevated platforms. A toddler could have seen the need to apply a single coating of asphalt, run over it with a roller, ensure the edges were lower than the middle for drainage purposes, and slap some sealer on top. Voila! Yes. The proverbial toddler was fluent in French.

It seemed that the city fathers had accepted the lowest bid on the original job. With no reservations. Driving over that segment of thoroughfare was like steering the lunar module over uneven green-cheese terrain. Lowe's could have set up a mobile service department to shake their paint by hauling gallons of Sherwin Williams across that rough patch. The large metal manhole lid was elevated, sitting atop a mini-Everest of faded blacktop. It made a clanging noise each time the tire-Sherpas carried an automobile up and over the peak. Not one smooth segment, but approximately forty-eight contiguous multi-level segments of various fade-itude comprised that compromised roadway. Had it been an article of clothing, it would have been Dolly Parton's coat of many colors. Except that rather than cut-up scraps of cloth from donated clothing, it would have been scraps of unwanted asphalt poured by traveling con-men assuring you that they were doing you a favor by giving you a deal on the material left over from a job down the street, and rather than being many colors, it would have been monochromatic, and instead of keeping a schoolgirl warm, it would have broken the back of an Olympic-level weightlifter. But other than that...it was just like Dolly's coat of many colors.

Now, that street is as smooth as a baby's bottom. Not that I'd ever drive over a baby's bottom with my Tahoe.