Excavating the Median

Years ago, TxDot, which was known as the Texas Highway Department at the time, would build curbed medians, with turning lanes  in the cities. It was a good idea at the time, but heavier traffic demanded a continuous left turn lane. It was our job to remove the curb, excavate the medians, place rebar, and fill the areas with concrete. 

I worked with the heavy equipment as they excavated the fill to grade. I kept the grade with two heavy pipes and a string. I'd roll the pipes until the string was taught, and check the depth with a lathe I marked. It was a crude way to measure, but dummy proof. If any other hands were available to help trim with a shovel, I didn't have to wonder if they could read a tape measure. I did have to watch if they had the lathe upside down, even though it was obvious which end was correct.

The best way to describe the embankment used for fill was that it was crap. It was a conglomeration of just about everything, including topsoil, an unstable clay locally called "gumbo", pieces of lumber, bottles, automobile trim pieces, bricks and pieces of concrete. A local church had an enormous fill needed for an expansion, and the basically worthless embankment would work for fill around the building. A little topsoil, some grass, and the new building would be beautiful. It was free, so they had one less expenditure for their project.

One afternoon, when excavating a small median, a truckload of the purest, perfect fill sand was what was being excavated. My mind raced, I thought of my father, and waved to my boss as he pulled up a few minutes after the truck left. I explained my father needed some good fill for his yard, the price was right, and I would ride with the next truck to his house. It was the perfect opportunity, since it was rare for me to be working close to his house, and all the pieces had fallen into place.

The boss agreed, I spotted the next truck in line, and explained to the driver the plan. As the excavator worked, the first two buckets were more of the sand, but that was it. The remaining buckets from the median were more of the garbage fill we'd found since the beginning of the project. Hoping for more was a futile effort, so I told the driver to keep hauling to the church, and thought about how I should have stopped the first truck, and expedited my plan. If I had, it wouldn't have worked, since I would have held up a truck, and the boss not have been pleased to find a truck sitting by the side of the road.

So, in the long run, it was a good thought, but fate was against me. I like to think of the good side of the event, since my luck would have had the truck taking out some limbs, breaking the curb, and cracking my father's driveway. It was what is was, and in the end, it worked out.