In early June, I stopped for an iced coffee on my way to work. I checked the dashboard clock as I left the parking lot of the shop, and smugly noted that I would reach my destination, a half a mile away, on time.
I headed down the street, and was poised to turn right when I realized the road was closed. That’s when I knew the roadwork season had begun.
Maine’s highways and byways take a beating in the winter. I actually dislodged my car’s muffler once after driving over a pothole. I am glad crews are out there making our roads better. It’s just that sometimes it can make life frustrating.
I’m a librarian, and oversee the five school libraries in my district. During the school year, I am driving around frequently. Thus, I knew that workers were out and about near one of the elementary schools. The week prior to the road closure, the crew had been on a street south of the school. There was a flagger, and I had to wait several minutes to proceed, but it wasn’t a big deal.
On the day of the road closure, however, I had taken the opposite approach to the school, from the north side, because I desperately wanted an iced coffee. It was going to be a hot day, and I knew that one of the two air conditioners in this particular library was broken. Though I expected to see road construction, I didn’t anticipate closure.
When I saw the sign, I took a left into a gas station and turned back the way I had come. This was now the only way for me to get to the school—to retrace my steps.
The school is located between two main roads, which are intersected by the now-closed road. I needed to get to the other main road, where a series of side streets would lead me to the school. To get to the south main road from the north main road, I had to drive two miles east to the next intersecting street. Then I had to drive two miles west on the south main road.
To put it simply, the two main roads only intersect in three places, with the third being another half mile away from the second. There are no side streets leading to the school from the north road, as there are on the south road.
Of course, given the way the morning was going, there was a road crew working on the south road too. Of course, it was right in front of the side street I needed to access. Of course, I had to wait several minutes for my turn to pass the flagger.
It was just a good thing that I didn’t have to punch a clock.
At least I wasn’t alone in my tardiness. A teacher had stopped at the Walmart at the corner of the closed road on his way in and he had to drive the two miles east to then drive two miles west. I should mention that the reason there are so few intersecting streets is that there is a long ridge between the two main roads, which make roadbuilding there impractical.
Given the fact that the crews were blocking all access to a school that would be in session in an hour, I did wonder why the city hadn’t waited a couple of weeks to get started, when school would be out for the year.
That’s what they did in my neighborhood. I had barely begun my summer vacation when earthmovers, and excavating equipment appeared on three of the four streets around our block. A giant concrete pipe appeared at the end of our driveway, in a side yard. Signs stood at various corners stating “no through traffic.”
Oh, no.
My husband, Paul, learned that they were restructuring all three streets and that the work would likely take all summer.
Double no!
Interestingly, when I posted my woes—with pictures—on Facebook somebody moved the pipe that was stored in our yard to our neighbor’s yard. Did one of the city councilors I’m friends with intervene? I’ll probably never know.
The work has made dog walking difficult for Paul, but, luckily, our house faces the one street that isn’t under construction. Our driveway starts on that street, and then turns left to continue down to the adjacent side street. Our yard extends to the middle of the block, so between it and the long driveway, we have a buffer from much of the noise and all of the dust. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.
One of the most frustrating parts of summer roadwork is that you don’t know where it’s going to turn up. There have been times when I’ve driven to my destination, did what I needed to do, and then returned the way I came, only to encounter some small-scale operation. Even the “big digs” that go on for weeks can be unpredictable. I have to make sure I give myself plenty of time to get where I’m going.
This is not one of my strong suits, but I’m working at it. At least I have plenty of time to give myself pep talks while I wait for traffic flaggers to wave me on.
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