While we’ve not yet had the privilege of visiting and experiencing all fifty of the glorious United States, we can assuredly assert that, by far, of those we’ve experienced–in thousands upon thousands of miles driven–Indiana has, in fact, the absolute worst roads in America.
We’ve been on remote, Rocky Mountain, four wheel drive fire trails–not much more than a pair of boulder-laden cow-tracks–that are smoother than those Indiana has the audacity to call Interstate Highways.
We once thought Colorado held the honor of Worst Roads in America–as they often seem to have made every attempt to bring the rustic feeling of the High Plains’ dirt roads to city life.
But not Indiana.
Indiana seems to have given the task of road planning, maintenance, and repair to a six year old with a bucket buildy-blocks who then tossed them about the floor and exclaimed, “I’ve made a road!”
I-70, for example, is literally an assortment of randomly-sized and shaped concrete chunks strewn in roughly an east-west direction.
I, personally, had the unfortunate opportunity to have once experienced first-hand an actual 8.5 magnitude earthquake. It was slumber-inducing compared to the violence endured on these roads.
If you must travel them, on no account should anyone with any production car or truck ever attempt to do so at any rate of speed greater than 3% of that posted on any speed limit sign, lest you risk substantial steering, suspension, or spinal damage.
The Paris-Dakar could be easily renamed and relocated to the state of Indiana and run on its Interstate highways to fully test the mettle of the greatest off road builders and drivers in the world.
None shall pass without some degree of mechanical, or pelvic destruction from traversal of its random boulder fields.
Other states–other remote, emerging economies with only dirt roads and little more than five-figure GDPs have found effective methods to ensure smooth, drivable roads for their citizenry. Perhaps we could engage their planning and maintenance crews to assist Indiana with the same tasks here.
Or maybe we can instead send our chiropractors’ bills to 200 W Washington St in Indianapolis.
A Visitor From the 21st Century