Every two years, New Hampshire passes a 10-year transportation plan. It starts with local priorities from regional planning commissions. The Governor’s Advisory Commission on Intermodal Transportation, composed of the state’s five elected executive councilors plus the Department of Transportation commissioner, holds hearings across all five council districts. The draft goes to the governor, then to the legislature. Historically, it passes with wide bipartisan support. It’s designed to reflect the entire state before a single vote is cast in Concord.
This year, Gov. Kelly Ayotte turned that bipartisan support into bipartisan backlash — twice in one week. First she vetoed Senate Bill 627, which would have doubled turnpike tolls for drivers without a New Hampshire E-ZPass. Days later, she vetoed the 10-year plan itself, built on that same toll mechanism. Her reasoning, nearly word-for-word both times: “I do not support raising the tolls. I will continue to focus on making New Hampshire more affordable for all and a destination for tourists in the region.”
It’s a clean line. It doesn’t hold up.
New Hampshire’s permanent gas tax hasn’t moved since 1991. The only adjustment since then — a 4.2-cent increase in 2014 — wasn’t a real fix. It was a narrow surcharge to bond the I-93 widening, set to expire once those bonds are paid off, around 2034. That money was never available for anything else. Turnpike tolls, meanwhile, haven’t seen a system-wide increase since 2007. Against that backdrop, the Department of Transportation says the 10-year plan is roughly $400 million short.
Both vetoed bills exempted New Hampshire E-ZPass holders. Residents could get a transponder free and keep paying what they’ve paid since 2007. The increases fell on out-of-state drivers, cash payers and people without New Hampshire passes — funded entirely through dedicated turnpike revenue. Neither bill raised taxes on Granite Staters. Both were the first real attempt in decades to close a gap that isn’t going away on its own.
It’s worth noting where highway money already goes, too. New Hampshire’s Highway Fund is collected by the Department of Safety, not the Department of Transportation — and some of it funds Department of Safety operations before a dollar ever reaches a paving crew. That’s a longstanding, legitimate gripe. But it argues against these vetoes, not for them. If part of the existing revenue is already diverted from construction, blocking two new funding sources in one week only tightens the squeeze on what’s left.
That’s the backlash in practice. Senate Transportation Vice Chair Mark McConkey, a Republican, called the plan veto “an unprecedented action that creates unnecessary uncertainty.” House Deputy Speaker Steven Smith, also a Republican, called it “short-sighted.” Democratic Rep. John Cloutier said it “puts politics ahead of public safety.” The Associated General Contractors of New Hampshire warned of real damage to hiring and bonding across the industry. When a veto unites contractors, the opposition party and the governor’s own legislative majority — twice in a week, after the state’s own Executive Council already vetted the plan district by district — the stated reason usually isn’t the real one.
The 10-year plan isn’t paperwork. It’s how New Hampshire competes for federal matching funds, and the roadmap contractors plan years of work around. Stalled for now: I-93 corridor relief through Concord, long-delayed I-293 exit work in Manchester, bridge reconstruction and the paving backlog the state can’t keep deferring.
Maine, the rest of New England and New York adjusted tolling and gas taxes years ago to keep pace with construction costs, with no evident harm to tourism. New Hampshire froze its gas tax in 1991 and its tolls in 2007, then acts surprised when the plan comes back underfunded. The cost doesn’t disappear. It shifts to residents through rougher roads and slower repairs, while the “no new taxes” headline survives on a policy that never touched a New Hampshire driver.
New Hampshire’s whole identity rests on having no sales or income tax. That model leans hard on a few substitute revenue streams: road tolls, gas and business taxes and the Rooms and Meals tax, which brought in more than $448 million last year and is the state’s second-largest tax source. That revenue exists because people drive here, eat here and stay here. The Governor’s own veto language leaned on that fact, framing New Hampshire as “a destination for tourists in the region.” But a destination needs roads that work.
Bottlenecked interstates and crumbling bridges don’t just cost drivers time — they threaten the tourism and commerce that keep the state’s tax-free model solvent in the first place. Block the narrow revenue streams meant to keep infrastructure current, and eventually you undercut the broader ones that depend on that infrastructure working.
Gov. Kelly Ayotte built her political brand on a promise to keep New Hampshire from getting “Massed up.” The legislature and the Executive Council built a real fix for a real problem, the way they always have. The Governor turned that agreement into backlash for a talking point her state’s infrastructure can’t afford.
When lawmakers return this fall to weigh an override, the question is simple: does New Hampshire want a funded plan that solves our infrastructure problems? Lawmakers already know the answer. Her own party’s leadership has already called the veto short-sighted and unprecedented. An override would put that judgment into law. If you drive these roads, tell your state senator and House representatives to override the veto and fix this “Mass.”
James Jalbert owns C&J Bus Lines, a Portsmouth-based bus company that runs from the Seacoast down to Boston and New York City.