Sometimes the Road goes on forever, smooth as silk, taking you to your destination of fortune, fate, or dreams. Sometimes it gets rough, the pavement broken, slowing you down or breaking you down.
If you are lucky, the road gets rough only for a little while, then it gets fixed or smooths out around the next bend and you are good to go. When you are out of luck you can be out of Good Road for a very long time.
One of my favorite Motorcycling Roads serves as a case study here. Whether it's a metaphor for other things and the canary-in-the-coal mine for the prospects of the 21st Century as we must live it here in Southern California; or just a local blip on the infrastructure lifeline, I can't say for sure. But I take it seriously.
The Road in question is the Angeles Crest Highway (aka Highway 2), which runs from the foothills of northeastern Los Angeles over the San Bernardino Mountains to the desert beyond. It's long been a weekend pathway to nature, silence, and relative seclusion from the maddening crowds of the Big City. Camping, hiking, day-tripping, bicycling, and motorcycling are all part of the appeal.
The Road has been knocked around a lot in the past 10 years, being resurfaced beautifully once only to be damaged almost immediately by the Station Fire; fixed - again relatively nicely, only to be damaged once more by landslides after the Station Fire's deforestation. In the last couple of years the road has deteriorated and been fixed by uncaring and uncareful applications of 'tar snakes' - drizzled seams of oozy tar drooled into the alligator cracks in the pavement. When new these babies are semi-dangerous to motorcycles, and they are ugly at any time.
But they were preferable to what's just been done: in the past month or so, the entire Crest has been chip-sealed with large size aggregate from Wrightwood all the way to La Crescenta. It's the cheapest way to 'fix' a deteriorating road surface, and in this time of tight budgets, the method appeals; however, it is not nice to two-wheeled traffic. Not only is it rough and noisy (but there are only the bears and deer to bother, I hear you say), it makes for hard going and shaky steering for bicyclists, and tears up the tires of motorcycles while cutting back on braking stability and traction (counterintuitive though it may seem - it's true). And- whether pedaling or twisting the throttle, falling on that stuff would be like sliding over a street paved with shark's teeth.
If there is enough car traffic to grind down the sharp gravel, or the surface breaks up and forces the roads department to cover it with hot mix, the Crest may live again for all its travelers; but for now its a Lost Road, a Rough Road, and I mourn it.
And here's where the metaphor gets exercised:
There are other Rough Roads we may be forced to take. The economy- after a smooth(ish) run of some miles looks to be showing a few potholes ahead; maybe even a sinkhole or two. The repaving job doesn't appear to be a long-term fix and we may all need to consider whatever strategy equates to the likes of a 1970s-era LandCruiser.
The Arab Spring seemed like a shining new road but that's turned into a pothole-strewn mess. And our attempts (some say halfhearted) at a fix have given that road a dangerous new surface, abrasive and potentially deadly.
And, last I looked, the never really smooth but often passable roads that are our Legislative and Executive branches (that's Congress and the White House for those of you too long out of grade school government class) have become lined with the nastiest, most tire-eating aggregate imaginable. Paving the Crest with the real road equivalent of that topping would be like sticking anti-backup spikes along the whole way.
So, while I consider my options on how best to still enjoy the Angeles Crest despite it's anti-social resurfacing, we must all ponder what to do with those other Rough Roads we must face. Monster Trucks, anyone?
If you are lucky, the road gets rough only for a little while, then it gets fixed or smooths out around the next bend and you are good to go. When you are out of luck you can be out of Good Road for a very long time.
One of my favorite Motorcycling Roads serves as a case study here. Whether it's a metaphor for other things and the canary-in-the-coal mine for the prospects of the 21st Century as we must live it here in Southern California; or just a local blip on the infrastructure lifeline, I can't say for sure. But I take it seriously.
The Road in question is the Angeles Crest Highway (aka Highway 2), which runs from the foothills of northeastern Los Angeles over the San Bernardino Mountains to the desert beyond. It's long been a weekend pathway to nature, silence, and relative seclusion from the maddening crowds of the Big City. Camping, hiking, day-tripping, bicycling, and motorcycling are all part of the appeal.
The Road has been knocked around a lot in the past 10 years, being resurfaced beautifully once only to be damaged almost immediately by the Station Fire; fixed - again relatively nicely, only to be damaged once more by landslides after the Station Fire's deforestation. In the last couple of years the road has deteriorated and been fixed by uncaring and uncareful applications of 'tar snakes' - drizzled seams of oozy tar drooled into the alligator cracks in the pavement. When new these babies are semi-dangerous to motorcycles, and they are ugly at any time.
But they were preferable to what's just been done: in the past month or so, the entire Crest has been chip-sealed with large size aggregate from Wrightwood all the way to La Crescenta. It's the cheapest way to 'fix' a deteriorating road surface, and in this time of tight budgets, the method appeals; however, it is not nice to two-wheeled traffic. Not only is it rough and noisy (but there are only the bears and deer to bother, I hear you say), it makes for hard going and shaky steering for bicyclists, and tears up the tires of motorcycles while cutting back on braking stability and traction (counterintuitive though it may seem - it's true). And- whether pedaling or twisting the throttle, falling on that stuff would be like sliding over a street paved with shark's teeth.
If there is enough car traffic to grind down the sharp gravel, or the surface breaks up and forces the roads department to cover it with hot mix, the Crest may live again for all its travelers; but for now its a Lost Road, a Rough Road, and I mourn it.
And here's where the metaphor gets exercised:
There are other Rough Roads we may be forced to take. The economy- after a smooth(ish) run of some miles looks to be showing a few potholes ahead; maybe even a sinkhole or two. The repaving job doesn't appear to be a long-term fix and we may all need to consider whatever strategy equates to the likes of a 1970s-era LandCruiser.
The Arab Spring seemed like a shining new road but that's turned into a pothole-strewn mess. And our attempts (some say halfhearted) at a fix have given that road a dangerous new surface, abrasive and potentially deadly.
And, last I looked, the never really smooth but often passable roads that are our Legislative and Executive branches (that's Congress and the White House for those of you too long out of grade school government class) have become lined with the nastiest, most tire-eating aggregate imaginable. Paving the Crest with the real road equivalent of that topping would be like sticking anti-backup spikes along the whole way.
So, while I consider my options on how best to still enjoy the Angeles Crest despite it's anti-social resurfacing, we must all ponder what to do with those other Rough Roads we must face. Monster Trucks, anyone?
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