Anarchy has once again reared its disrespectful head in Backroads.
The structures beside our infrastructure are not safe. I might have mentioned how our big bridge has been under construction off and on since May. The MODOT grinders have been out in full force, but little else has been accomplished. The old pavement has been scraped away, but a new surface has yet to make an appearance. That means our lengthy bridge is groovy. And not in the psychedelic sixties sense.
The problem with grooves on the bridge deck is that traction is diminished. Traction results from friction. Friction is sorely lacking when surface area is decreased. So instead of my tires gripping the pavement, my tires grip alternating ridges in the pavement. Which is fine right now. But when the current drought ends, and I find myself dodging oncoming traffic on a rain-soaked roadway, there could be trouble. And we won't even worry yet about frost forming in the morning on this bridge.
MODOT marked both ends with large, diamond-shaped, glowing-orange, nylon signs after the last bridge-scraping. Not so important to me, because I drive over it every day, and know the situation. But imagine some poor sap just passing through, caught unawares by this groovy bridge, and the havoc that might ensue, should such a poor sap apply brakes while passing over the span.
My official road-trip photographer was a bit off his game today, but here is what he captured:
Pictures are not available, but across the road at the left of this photo was a car parked on the thin shoulder. And just behind where the photo was taken was a pickup truck in the ditch. The plot thickens. Were the perpetrators apprehended while in the act? If so, why were the signs not replaced? Did two vehicles spin out on the grooved pavement, funneled off the bridge by the guard rails? For sure, the perpetrators were lucky that the stop sign shooter was not target-practicing during the heist. Either the stop sign itself is also missing, or it's just out of the picture to the right. I was so discombobulated by the GROOVED PAVEMENT disappearance that I did not notice the stop sign.
Scofflaws are afoot in the heartland.