It’s a miracle that anything gets built in America. Roads, bridges, airports, train tracks — these magical things we all rely on to not die on our way to Costco? Yeah, they exist thanks to Congress. You know, that same Congress that once spent 15 hours arguing whether a hot dog is a sandwich. Spoiler: it is. But somehow, despite the bickering, political theater, and tendency to do absolutely nothing until five minutes after the apocalypse starts, Congress also manages to occasionally fund transportation infrastructure.
Enter the high-stakes soap opera known as surface transportation authorization — an absolutely thrilling (read: soul-crushing) process where Congress decides how much taxpayer cash will be flung at highways, public transit, and other ways of getting from Point A to Point B without bursting a blood vessel.
From Model-Ts to Model Disasters
Way back in 1916, when the biggest vehicular menace was some guy named Clyde weaving his Ford Model T down a dirt road while high on prohibition-era gin, Congress decided it would be neat to invest in roadways. They came up with the brilliant idea of formula grants — a fancy way of saying, “Let’s throw money at the states and hope they spend it on roads instead of gold-plated toilets.”
Flash-forward to 1978: after decades of realizing that states were, shockingly, very good at spending federal money but not necessarily on things that made sense, Congress decided to put on some training wheels. They passed the Surface Transportation Assistance Act and began using multiyear funding packages to make sure states didn’t just blow it all on monorails to nowhere.
By 1982, Congress got even smarter (a relative term) and added state equity provisions. This meant states couldn’t take federal highway money and run — at least not without some basic math ensuring no state got way more or way less than it paid in highway taxes. It's almost adorable how optimistic Congress was about math solving problems.
Naturally, because America loves tinkering with rules more than it loves free breadsticks at Olive Garden, they tweaked the equity formula again in 2012, guaranteeing states would at least get 95 cents back on every dollar they paid in. Progress!
Enter the IIJA: Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act, AKA "Let's Pretend We Like Each Other for $1.2 Trillion"
In 2021, Congress shocked the nation by doing something. They passed the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act (IIJA), cleverly nicknamed the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law because, for once, Democrats and Republicans agreed on something other than the cafeteria tater tots being overcooked.
At $1.2 trillion, it was the single largest investment in infrastructure since, well, infrastructure was a twinkle in Alexander Hamilton’s eye. Airports? Funded. Broadband? Funded. Roads and bridges so ancient they made the Roman aqueducts look freshly built? Also funded.
The IIJA expires in 2026, and already, the vultures — sorry, legislators — are circling for reauthorization talks in 2025. Because if there’s one thing Congress loves more than kicking cans down roads, it’s making sure the roads stay funded enough to kick the can a little further.
Competitive Discretionary Funding: America's Favorite Bloodsport
Traditionally, states got their highway money the old-fashioned way: in a lump sum, no strings attached (besides a polite request not to embezzle it). But the IIJA threw a Molotov cocktail into that cozy arrangement by introducing competitive discretionary funding.
Now, states and local communities actually have to apply for grants. Yes, apply — like sad contestants on a reality show called Who Wants to Fix a Bridge? You fill out mountains of paperwork, battle other desperate towns for cash, and maybe — maybe — get awarded a tiny fraction of what you asked for. Democracy in action.
And if you’re wondering how small towns with one city planner and a fax machine from 1993 are handling this process? Not well, Bob. Not well.
Inflation: The Fun Sponge of Infrastructure Dreams
Remember that big, shiny $1.2 trillion number Congress was so proud of? Thanks to inflation, it’s more like $950 billion and shrinking faster than a cheap bathing suit in a hot tub.
Construction costs have skyrocketed, labor is more expensive, and materials are pricier than a Starbucks run during pumpkin spice season. As a result, many projects now need even more money just to complete what was originally promised. Congress, being the helpful bunch they are, is responding with all the urgency of a turtle napping in a sunbeam.
And of course, because this is Congress we’re talking about, there’s already a movement to claw back any unspent IIJA funds. Because why let that money fix a crumbling bridge when it could be used to, I don't know, pay for another bipartisan steak dinner where no one agrees on anything?
Surface Transportation Reauthorization: The Remix You Didn’t Ask For
So what does the next round of surface transportation reauthorization look like? Well, if history teaches us anything, it’ll be messy, political, and peppered with the same inspiring slogans like “Resilience!” and “Equity!” while 90% of the argument is really about which district gets the new overpass.
Early talking points for the next bill include:
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More or Less Money: Congress will bravely debate whether infrastructure investment should increase ("America First!") or decrease ("Fiscal Responsibility!"). Both sides will accuse each other of hating America.
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More Technical Assistance: Since small communities applying for grants is currently the Hunger Games with less dignity, expect calls for more hand-holding.
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Simplifying Applications: Translation: fewer pages, same amount of confusing jargon.
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Environmental Impacts: Everyone agrees the environment matters, but they disagree wildly on how much it matters, or whether trees even have feelings.
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Buy America Requirements: Should all materials come from the U.S.? Should we make an exception for Canada, our polite upstairs neighbor? Expect several filibusters.
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Workforce Funding: Maybe we should train people to build stuff before expecting stuff to be built? Revolutionary concept, we know.
And if none of that excites you, don't worry — there will definitely be grandstanding, someone will read an entire infrastructure bill out loud "for transparency," and late-night committee meetings will feature all the riveting drama of C-SPAN at 1:00 AM.
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: The 2026 Edition
If you thought the IIJA was the end-all, be-all of American infrastructure, think again. The future holds even bigger debates:
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High-speed rail: Will America finally join the 20th century (yes, 20th) and build decent trains? Or will we continue pretending Amtrak is a real alternative to flying?
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Electric Vehicles (EVs): Will Congress invest in EV infrastructure like charging stations, or will they argue about it until Tesla invents teleportation?
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Airports: Will we finally upgrade our airports so they stop looking like dystopian food courts? Maybe, if lobbyists agree on what terminal the private jets land in.
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Rural broadband: Will Congress deliver internet speeds faster than a potato to the middle of nowhere? Or will TikTok remain a city folk luxury?
All of this and more will depend on whether Congress can muster up enough collective brainpower to pass another massive infrastructure bill before the current one expires. Given the track record, I’d recommend you buckle your seatbelt — and maybe bring a helmet.
Final Boarding Call: Infrastructure and the American Way
At the end of the day, transportation infrastructure is one of the few things both political parties pretend to care about. It’s physical, it’s tangible, and voters actually notice when bridges collapse or when potholes destroy their suspensions.
So while you might hear a lot about “deficits” and “burdens on future generations” in the next year or two, just remember: if Congress doesn’t pass something, your grandkids might be commuting to school over a rickety wooden bridge on a horse named Inflation.
And if history’s any guide, Congress will eventually pass something. It’ll be too expensive, too late, and loaded with weirdly specific pork projects like a museum for antique traffic lights — but somehow, against all odds, America’s planes, trains, and automobiles will keep chugging along.
God Bless America — and pass the asphalt.
