Forgotten monuments of Road repair

Truly Pointless.

There was a small corner of the road just down from me in really bad shape for the last year or so. First thing in spring a truck came out with a load of tar and guys with shovels. I was expecting it to be the standard shitty tar-truck-and-guys-with-shovels road repair. But checking it out after they were done it looked pretty good and smooth. And they even surrounded their 8 square foot patch with 3 orange pylons while it dried.

The thing that amuses me is that they have clearly completely forgot about the pylons. They have been dutifully guarding the tiny patch of asphalt for 3 months now. I think it is pretty well set, I guess they are just part of the neighboohood now. It’s on the corner, against a yellow curb, so nobody can park there anyway. I’m wondering how long they will be there, I’m guessing it’s reached the nobody really even notices them anymore stage. I’m starting to root for them to make it till winter and the snowplows, when I assume they will have to be moved.

Similarly in my town there was a 200 ft. stretch of one lane that was marked of with those 3 foot tall pylons with the weighted bases while they resurfaced that lane. The pylons stayed there for 5 months before someone remembered to come and take them away and reopen that particular lane.

Interesting. I guess I am more helpful in my community. The electric company came out 2 days ago, did some work and left an orange cone by the street. I called the electric company and TOLD them about it. They came yesterday and picked it up.

They thanked me for calling.

I also pick up trash around the neighborhood when I walk my dogs. And I call the city/county to report pot holes in the road which need fixing.

Back in the 1970s, I was driving home from a disappointing race in Kansas. I came across an endless line of cones astride the freshly painted edge line. They were not too close to each other, perhaps 150 feet apart, as there were miles of them. I amused myself by ‘wagging’ the trailer to see if I could knock one into the ditch. It took a while to get the hang of it, and I left a few white loops on the pavement (hey, I was young).

Then, I crested a long hill only to see the painting crew a few hundred yards ahead. I could see an old guy on a special chair at the back of the trailer, and every so often, he reached for a cone and dropped it neatly in place. He looked right at me as I knocked a few more over, never breaking his slow rhythm. I passed the truck and he never even glanced over at me.

Traffic cone guys don’t give a fuck.


My guess is that they know if someone ignores the cones and runs over the patch, they will plunge into a 12 feet deep hole. So the cones stay.