I am building a ramp/walkway along the side of our house. It’s a design/build project. Let’s just say that this contract went to the lowest bidder.
And when I take on a design/build project, it could likely withstand all but a direct nuclear blast (sorry, Kim, we don’t need a test). The deck boards are composite decking material, so this path should be low-maintenance for years to come.
It’s not an ADA thing, although with a few modifications it could be. The angle is already pretty steep and one or two steps remain in the path that would make an ADA ramp even steeper. My house is two stories in front, and three stories in back. So, the walkway is basically a way for me to get the lawn mower to the front yard more easily and allow us the freedom to walk more safely between levels outside.
I was energized by the new deck and the new fence and the new paint job on the house. Why did I ever let myself get energized? Sure, there was all of that leftover composite decking that I can use and the leftover composite deck boards from my son-in-law’s old deck that he so graciously cut up in four-foot sections, and delivered to me for free. Not to mention the leftover treated deck supporting boards and posts.
This is where I’ve re-learned my lesson. I didn’t think about this before starting the project, but I’ve put this ramp in a category that comes pretty close to one that I absolutely avoid: landscaping.
Because there are posts that need to be anchored in cement. Have you ever noticed how many different kinds of cement mixes there are now? When I worked in a hardware store, it was just mortar mix, and sand mix, and that was about it. Now there are all these designer mixes and I struggled with just finding the right bag of cement. Of course, when I worked in a hardware store, Richard Nixon was still a popular president.
And then there’s dirt. Dirt is great in a tomato garden or a summer squash raised bed, but not under my walkway. The amount of dirt I have to move personally is giving me a new appreciation of the definition of redistribution of wealth. When Thomas Jefferson created the mounds on the South Lawn of the White House, I’m pretty sure that he didn’t do it himself. And, if he did, I’m pretty sure he didn’t use five-gallon buckets. But, then, I’m not Jefferson. And now I have a mound in the corner of my yard.
Oh, did I mention rock? Half buckets of rock weigh a ton for this non-weightlifter. Putting down weed block under the ramp is fine, but the rock that goes on top of that is, well you guessed it, shuttled from one side of my house to the other. Who’s doing that? The lowest bidder.
One day, perhaps soon, you may visit us. When you see all of these improvements, help me out. Keep the deck clean, convince the birds to quit doing their business on the fence, and let us know what you think about the house color. But have at the ramp. Jump on it, trudge on it, and try to abuse it. You won’t be able to.
It has already abused the lowest bidder. I used to be younger when I did landscaping.