On pothole patrol
DPW crew does its best to smooth out bumpy roads
SALEM - The moon dangles overhead as Paul Marino pulls the orange Ford into a string of idling public works trucks at 6:06 a.m. He can tell it's going to be a long wait.
Several triaxle juggernauts, which can carry 10 tons or more, sit ahead in the queue at Aggregate Industries in Watertown getting loaded with the same hot-mix asphalt Marino and another Salem Department of Public Works employee need to patch potholes. This winter's fluctuating temperatures, Marino says, have split open some of the worst craters he's seen in years.
And since Aggregate is currently the only game around for hot mix, Marino sits. And he talks.
The 48-year-old gabs about everything: Easter dinner in Peabody (lots of potholes in that city); his three sons (he has raised them single-handedly for the last several years); an upcoming vacation with his lady (to the Dominican Republic); his second job (at
When he's not fixing potholes, Marino repairs busted pipes, sweeps streets, drives heavy equi pment - you name it. The money's all right: enough to travel, occasionally dine out, and help his 20-year-old pay for community college.
It's 8:39 a.m. when Marino pulls the truck under the chute dispensing hot mix - a tar-smelling black crumble - for $90 a ton. In less than a minute, 4,000 pounds pour down. It'll all be used today. For weeks, residents have been phoning-in and e-mailing pothole sightings, and the DPW guys have been filling the voids daily.
Back in Salem, Perry and Marino set out, list in hand. First stop, Thorndike and Bridge streets. It's just after 10 a.m. Cars often weave around the two-man crew after a cursory stop. The guys worry about how close some drivers come, but try not to be mad.
"It's a rush world. . . . You get a thick skin," Marino says. He keeps telling himself what he already knows: "We're kinda the good guys out there."
It's not an artful job. The pair's shovels scrape and slide as they lift hot mix from the truck and dump it on a hole.
Scrape, slide, dump. Scrape, slide, dump.
Marino rakes the steaming hot mix smooth and Perry tamps the stuff down with a few thumps of the "tamper," a flat metal square with a long handle.
Arbella Street is next, then Collins, Bentley, and Saunders. Marino drives his truck right over each pothole - badump-a-dump, badump-a-dump - so he knows where to position the trailer keeping the hot mix warmed to about 275 degrees.
Marino and Perry trade one-liners as they work, between thinking about lunch and how far off quitting time is. As the youngest member of the crew - he's been with the DPW about seven months - Perry is often the butt of the jokes: his gloveless dirty hands (they aren't "Palmolive fresh" like Marino's); his work pace ("even the Slowskys tell him he's slow").
Marino is quick to sing Perry's praises, too - the kid is affable and a quick learner - but he doesn't cut the 24-year-old, who is about the same age as Marino's sons, much slack.
"His title is 'Do what I tell him to do and shut up,' " Marino quips early on in the morning.
Perry smiles: "Yeah, pretty much."
A while later, Larry Snyderman ambles over as the guys work outside his shop, Magic Discount Muffler, an auto repair place at the corner of Bridge and Saunders. There's a hole, Snyderman tells them, in front of the driveway.
"If you can take care of that while you're here, I'd appreciate it," Snyderman says.
No biggie, Marino and Perry reply. They get these kinds of requests a lot, and complying keeps "most people thanking us, not flipping us off" for tying up traffic.
Soon, the two are off to a nearby Dunkin' Donuts. The guys noticed a huge hole behind the store when they stopped earlier for coffee. At first, Marino wasn't going to fill it today, but he changed his mind.
The hole is so big that Perry pulls out a pair of metal plates and straps them to his work boots. What are the shoes?
"I like to call them Scott's," Marino laughs, explaining that Perry will "dance" across the pothole with them on in order to tamp the hot mix down.
"I like to call 'em Air Jordans," Perry replies.
Later, the two share lunch - chop suey sandwiches at a little place in Salem Willows that Marino has been coming to for years. He's been wanting to bring Perry by.
They shoot the breeze about pretty much everything except potholes, and rib each other about the fortune cookies.
Marino opens his first, grinning: "You are a gentleman of outstanding wisdom."
"I can't wait to see his," Marino says as Perry tears open a cellophane package. "It'll be empty."
"The best mirror is a good friend," Perry recites.
"It's about me," Marino declares.
With that, it's off to Dead Horse Beach, where the DPW boss has noticed several holes he wants the guys to fill.
Marino and Perry circle the area, shoveling and tamping hot mix into holes. Every few minutes, Perry reminds Marino about their fortunes, saying "I'm your mirror."
Seems like Perry doesn't mind. As the two shovel the last bit of hot mix, he says he knows one day he'll be the senior crew guy ribbing the newbie.
The clock ticks 12:46 p.m.
"That's it kid," Marino says, as Perry tamps down the last hole.
"Sweet," Perry replies.
The two know they'll be out again. After all, even with 2 tons of hot mix, they barely dented the pothole list they'd picked up at DPW headquarters that morning.
Erin Ailworth can be reached at eailworth@globe.com. 