Come with me folks, as we travel down the scenic back roads of rural Berks County. As we journey along the winding way, passing bucolic farms and quaint homesteads, spying furry little woodland creatures and yielding to the occasional pedestrian or cyclist, every now and then our peaceful serene sojourn is interrupted by one of the most terrifying sights known to man.
Without warning and completely out of the blue appears a vision that strikes terror in the heart of every man, woman or teenager that drives in the country. What is this horror you ask? What is this image that sets my teeth to chattering and my blood to curdle cold? Is it an unexpected sighting of the Berks County Boogie Man? The Schuylkill River Skunk Ape? The Giant Jalappa Jackelope? No my friends, this terror of which I speak is even more troubling than these famous east coast wonders and a bone chilling shiver runs down my spine as I tremble to type the words themselves. It is the omen of danger ahead and certain doom. The sign that reads “Fresh Oil and Chip.”
Don’t pretend you aren’t quaking in your boots right now because I know better. One glance at that sign and I guarantee most of us contemplate finding a detour to avoid the route that lay ahead. Dread fills the most courageous heart because we don’t know how many miles of peril stretch out before us should we choose to continue on toward our destination.
The bold and brazen plow full speed ahead, unintimidated by the conditions. “There, take that local road crew! Thought you could slow me down, did you? I’ll show you! I will drive the speed limit and completely disregard the dings and pings of crushed gravel being hurled against my paint as well as the tacky gunky oil and tar now splattered all throughout my undercarriage. You have not defeated me, fresh oil and chips! I am Sparta!”
The timid and meek however take a more cautious approach. This driver navigates by inching tentatively forward, making painstaking progress, wincing with every snap, crackle and pop of the gravel beneath the wheels. Subdued and slowed by the fear of flinging debris, this careful traveler often becomes the leader in a parade of other frustrated commuters who dare not pass, but clearly wish they could proceed without this hindrance. This is the PennDOT poster child perhaps?
I fall somewhere between these two extremes and mainly find myself questioning the purpose behind the application of this road treatment. I have researched it. Supposedly, it prolongs the life of rural roads and extends the time between much more costly albeit permanent improvements. In my opinion, it serves mainly to cause motorcycles to lose traction around turns and local body shops to increase business. Yes, I am waxing cynical. Let’s just call this column a Pet Peeve. Just try to remember the words of wisdom that I found during my research about the best course of action to employ when encountering Fresh Oil and Chips on a road…. 1) Drive VERY SLOWLY! Hmmm, thank you PennDOT. Thanks so much.
