I’ve been reading a little – and listening, too – and I must say there are a lot of people who don’t have a clue as to where they live. It usually goes something like this:

“I’m so sick of the City Council approving more building between Magic Mountain and West Ranch. Don’t they know we don’t have any water to spare?” … “I’m tempted to drive down to City Hall there on Valencia and tell them what I think of it.”

So I asked her where she lived, and her reply was, “Stevenson Ranch.”

So here I go again. If you live west of Interstate 5, you don’t live in the city of Santa Clarita. If a new development is approved to be built west of that same freeway, the County of Los Angeles is to blame. Living in the Santa Clarita Valley doesn’t mean you live in Santa Clarita City.

It used to be so easy before they built up this area. Newhall was Newhall and was separated from Saugus and Castaic by many hundreds of acres of open fields. Valencia wasn’t even thought about, and we all knew the world would end when we got ZIP codes and area codes and soon had to dial “1” when you called long distance … along with the area code.

As the freeway and interstate system in California spread out to connect the cities and areas of the state, we were so very proud of our roads. When my aunts and uncles from Nebraska and Colorado came to visit, they would remark at how wonderful the roads were and that they seemed to be maintained so well.

Caltrans put out a report the other day that in the next 10 years, our roads and highways here in California will need $80 billion in repairs and improvements. Only problem is that we will be $60 billion short of having that money. They recommend the gasoline tax be increased or something like that. They also blame the shortfall on the fact that today’s cars get better mileage and also said maybe we should tax folks on a “per mile” rate.

Guess what? I’ve got a better idea. How about we stop the California High Speed Rail and use that money for our roads? Sounds like a good idea to me.

Of course, it might be a conspiracy to let the roads get so bad we have to take the High Speed Rail Boondoggle.

Have any of you come over the Newhall Pass on the I-5 and been in the truck lane lately? I drive a Jeep, so it was the type of road my vehicle was built to drive. Rough and bumpy. Going to have to go see Dr. Dell so I can get some crowns put back on my teeth after that stretch of road.

I can see what the high-speed rail advertisements will say someday: “Don’t risk your car’s wheel alignment, take the high-speed train.” Or, “Smooth ride all the way – not like the highway.”

When they built our superhighways and roads, or at least started them, Gov. Brown made all of us proud of our state. That was the father of the current governor. You know, the governor named Edmund G. “Pat” Brown. It looks like we’re being tag-teamed by that father-son pair. One builds roads while the other lets the same roads deteriorate and builds a useless choo-choo train.

If you’ve ever driven on I-95 between Baltimore and Boston, you know rough roads. The section of that trip through New York City is called the Cross Bronx Expressway. I was happy I was in a rental car that trip. I didn’t have to pay for the damage.

Same goes for the I-40 in Oklahoma City. Miles of rough and uneven pavement that caused RV’s my overhead doors to fly open. A toaster nearly fell on my head. Those doors were designed for rough roads, but they were not designed for roads that rough.

On the same I-40 leaving Flagstaff heading west, the road was just as rough. I kept thinking, “Where I live, the roads are better because I live in California.”

When I crossed the state line at Needles, the doors came open again. The road was rough all the way up that grade going to Barstow. I thought I was back in Oklahoma or maybe New York City.

But no … I was in my home state. You know the place: Money for a train that goes from no place to nowhere. Money for contractors who travel around and tell us how great high-speed rail is going to be.

No wonder the lady in Stevenson Ranch was confused. She must have just been on the I-5 going over Newhall Pass in the truck lane. She must have thought she was in another state.

Just like our governor is in another state – of mind. You’d think he’d want to preserve his father’s legacy. Well. The nickname of “Moonbeam” still seems appropriate. He thinks he lives someplace else, too.

Would someone please direct him to his home planet?

Darryl Manzer grew up in the Pico Canyon oil town of Mentryville in the 1960s and attended Hart High School. After a career in the U.S. Navy he returned to live in the Santa Clarita Valley, where he serves as executive director of the SCV Historical Society. He can be reached at dmanzer@scvhistory.com. His older commentaries are archived at DManzer.com; his newer commentaries can be accessed [here]. Watch his walking tour of Mentryville [here].