DETROIT – The scourge of Pure Michigan is its pot hole infested roads. Yes, tourists come from thousands of miles away to visit our lakes, streams and, judging from the now famous Pure Michigan commercials, glorious playground. It is every bit of all of that, but our roads are a flat out embarrassment.
Governor Rick Snyder will be the first to tell you that, too. Because Michigan's bow to the auto industry is the highest truck weights in the nation and our frigid winters turn to warm summers, leaving our roads a pock marked, washboard-like mess. When some tourists get over the Michigan Border, they are quite likely to have to stop by a tire store for some new rubber or a new rim during their stay.
Now, let's be clear: it's not every tourist, but it is frequent enough to be an annoyance and the bane of the Chamber of Commerce's existence. Heck, it happens to us Michiganders too.
Last summer I drove my wife and daughters to and from Charleston, South Carolina to visit family. We went 900 miles down and 875 miles back trouble free. During that last 25 miles, with home almost in sight, when we had literally just passed the Welcome to Pure Michigan sign on I-75 at the Ohio border, we slammed into a pothole that cracked my Town and Country's aluminum rim in two places and had to be replaced. It required a pit stop at the first Michigan rest stop, unpacking the car to get the spare, just as a summer rainstorm really put an unpleasant exclamation point on this frustrating and needless Michigan moment.
Rest assured, many of us in this state have a similar story. A perusal of social media will show you pictures of bent rims and asphalt repair trucks stuck in our cavernous potholes.
It's never ending, too. There's a ballot proposal coming in May that would increase our sales tax by a penny to raise more than a billion dollars and, the proponents claim, would smooth out the situation. There will be millions spent on that campaign. It's a toss-up right now whether it will pass.
But Michigan is a plucky place and its residents have learned to have a sense of humor about their problems.
Take for instance Ashby's Sterling Ice Cream of Shelby Township. It's a local brand that doesn't sell its rich-in-butterfat confections in grocery stores. You'll only find it in ice cream stands or restaurants across 30 states.
Every winter, it works on new flavors to keep fresh. The marketing director Dianna Tunison hit one of the millions of tie-rod snapping pot holes and decided to turn lemons into lemonade. Instead of complaining about it, she felt she'd discovered a major marketing opportunity.
First, just the flavor's name "Michigan Pot Hole" carried considerable relatable weight. But she had another idea.
"We first came up with the flavor and then talked about it as a team that we should donate 1 percent of our sales to the State of Michigan to help fix our pot holes," she said. "There's been so much talk about it this year and last spring and how we are going to do it we're trying to do our part."
That's right, Michigan can't seem to find the funds to pay for its road fix so a local ice cream company will donate 1 percent of its sales to the cause. Mind you, Ashby's isn't Baskin Robbins, so there likely won't be enough cash to fix more than a few hundred yards worth of pot holes around the state. That's not the point. It just shines the light on a massive problem that should be fixable with a little creativity and humor.
No, in Lansing they're not thinking that way, and no, they are not likely to be embarrassed by this gesture. But they should be! So if you see Michigan Pot Hole Ice Cream on the menu or flavor board you might order a scoop knowing that you are enjoying a chocolate chunk fudge delight and helping an exceptionally needy cause at the same time.