In this summer of record heat — a summer that is equal parts aggravation, frustration, and perspiration — our annual season of highway construction plods along. It is this way every year, and with it comes the painful reality that there is nothing we can do about it.
Or is there?
First, let us acknowledge that highway construction in states with four distinct seasons — in other words states such as Ohio and Michigan — have a relatively short season to build and fix pavement, generally April through October or November.
You could say that we Ohioans and Michiganders really have only two seasons: orangebarrel season and nonorange barrel season.
It wasn’t too many years ago — back when state government undertook to redesign the Ohio license plate — that someone suggested putting the orange barrel on the plate as our official state symbol. The notion went nowhere, and I assume whoever came up with the idea was being sarcastic, but what do I know about sarcasm?
So we start at a disadvantage compared to our neighbors way down south. Construction season lasts all year in Florida. It’s true that you can encounter orange barrels in the Sunshine State in February, but they don’t seem to be as pervasive there as they are here in July.
Compounding the misery of drivers in Ohio and Michigan is another realization: As soon as one stretch of interstate gets repaved, another is waiting its turn. For some reason, Michigan never seems to quite catch up.
Most drivers who travel across the Ohio-Michigan line on a regular basis know what I’m talking about, especially on I-75. When I’m driving north on the smooth pavement on the Ohio side of the border, I know that very shortly the suspension on my car, not to mention the fillings in my teeth, will be jostled about by the bumpy and uncomfortable ride I will experience when I cross into Michigan.
Conversely, when I’m returning southbound to Ohio on I-75, I sigh with relief when I leave Michigan behind and glide along smoothly again in Ohio. It’s like going from a root canal to a body massage.
Sorry, Michigan, that’s just the way it is. While Ohio certainly has its share of bad roads — check out I-75 through Cincinnati next time you’re down that way — there cannot be many places in Ohio where the state line makes a difference as dramatically as it does here in Toledo.
So what is the point here, you’re asking. Well, I have an idea. Goofy? Probably. Stupid? Most likely. Expensive? Most definitely. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.
Here’s my grand plan. On a date to be set by the federal government, all traffic would be banned for two years from the entire interstate highway system. Everything. No cars. No trucks. No RVs. The system would be shut down while each state, with federal assistance of some sort, repairs its interstate highways. Every last mile that needs it? Redone.
Two years to the day after its closure, the system would reopen. In return for its patience while using state highways and other roads for two years, the public would get its reward: a fully functional interstate highway system, plus — and here’s the best part — no more interstate highway construction for five years.
Think about it. No lane closures. No orange barrels. Nothing but smooth sailing, just as God and President Eisenhower intended when the interstate highway system was created. You could drive on I-80 from here to San Francisco and never be required to merge into one lane unless some dude in a pickup truck caused an accident up ahead.
Two years without the interstates would certainly put a burden on our noninterstate highways, but that’s already the case.
We’d have to accept that all those trucks would not go away; they’d just relocate.
So would two years of highway hell on U.S. Route 20 in exchange for five years of open road on a repaired interstate system be worth it?
I can only speak for myself. I say yes.
It’s a given that resistance to this whole scheme would be formidable. What about all the gas stations, chain hotels, and burger joints that beckon us at every interstate exit? I’m not going to lie — their business would suffer. But I have to believe that McDonalds, BP, Marriott, Comfort Inns, and all the rest, would survive.
Besides, after leaking all that oil into the Gulf of Mexico, BP owes us.
Yeah, this is a radical idea. It will never be taken seriously, nor should it. It’s a plan with too many potholes, if you’ll pardon the expression. Maybe the dog days of summer, along with a trail of orange barrels that stretches to the horizon, are playing tricks with my mind. It happens.
But banning texting while driving is a radical idea too, and that one’s beginning to catch on.
Thomas Walton is the retired Editor and Vice President of The Blade. His column appears every other Sunday. His radio commentary, “Life As We Know It,” can be heard on WGTE public radio every Monday at 5:44 p.m. during “All Things Considered.” Contact him at twalton@theblade.com.
First Published August 4, 2019, 4:00 a.m.