Saint Bernard, the 12th-century cleric, not the dog, is often credited with the proverb, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” As proverbs go, it’s not a bad one. But what if, what if, work with me now, hell isn’t the terminus but the road itself? That brings us to Amherst, the commonwealth’s answer to The Island of Misfit Priorities. Once upon a time, wayfarers entering Amherst from any neighboring community knew, without signage, that they had arrived solely by the road conditions. The roads were well-maintained, and potholes were as rare as consensus at a school committee meeting. But alas, that era is now a fond memory, consigned to history’s dustbin along with earth shoes and mood rings. Roads in Amherst are no longer public ways but crime scenes. Yellow stripes aren’t lane dividers but crime scene tape. Exhibit A: Belchertown Road. Exhibit B: College Street. Exhibit C: Station Road. Not to mention the crosswalks adjacent to Amherst College, which are their own unholy tragedies. That begs the question, “Whose asphalt is it for the year’s long indifference?” Had time travel been available to Robert Frost back in the day, and had he visited present-day Amherst, Mr. Frost might have titled his best-known poem “The Roads Never to be Taken Under Any Circumstance, Ever.” How bad are Amherst roads, you ask? Well, dangerous, vehicle-punishing, bone-jarring, and teeth-rattling are some descriptors that come to mind. Forget simply steering around the infinite holes in the road. The name of the game now is “Pick Your Pothole.” Drivers aim for the shallowest crater, choosing which to plunge into, attempting to limit vehicle damage. As a consequence, it’s not uncommon to see drivers driving like Mikaela Shiffrin skis. With all the weaving and zigzagging, an unbiased observer unfamiliar with the Amherst road conditions would swear that the town has a considerable OUI problem.Repeatedly patching severely deteriorating roads, aka deferred maintenance, can only buy so much time, but undaunted, Amherst has elevated asphaltic cobbling to an art form. Forensic analysis and carbon dating of Amherst road surfaces reveal that the pavement, if it can be called such anymore, is a Cenozoic asphalt upper layer overlying Mesozoic patches, which in turn overlay Paleozoic patches. Fred Flintstone enjoyed smoother roads in Bedrock.But hey, to hell with the carriageways in Amherst. The town is soon to celebrate the opening of the sumptuous, George Jetson-approved library and elementary school. The trade-off? Automobilists traveling to these august facilities will endure endless abuse of themselves and their vehicles, incurring the resulting repair expenses. A couple of final thoughts. It isn’t just Amherst residents who are biting the bullet while driving on town roads. If a community’s roads are its metaphorical welcome mat for visitors and residents alike, then Amherst’s peculiar greeting is screaming, “Get off of my lawn!” An odd salutation to be sure. Can things get any worse for Amherst’s roads? It’s a sure bet. For years, the town government has treated the DPW like a baby treats a diaper, expecting the staff to make chicken salad from chicken manure. Now those chickens have come home. If it weren’t for the DPW workers’ ceaseless efforts, roads that are merely passable would become impossibly impassable. A heartfelt thank-you is in order for the crews tackling this Sisyphean fool’s errand. But for now, it’s back to Waiting for Godot with Amherst roadways. Buckle up, don’t forget your mouth guard, and keep the lid tight on your Dunkin’.

Jack Tulloss lives in Belchertown.