I’ve discovered I have a super power. I’m “Pothole Woman.” It seems I’m equipped with an inner GPS that no matter where I’m driving I somehow manage to encounter the biggest, more gnarly potholes.
It’s gotten so bad that I feel safest when I’m driving with the aid of a co-pilot. Someone that’s riding shotgun and is constantly scanning the roadway for the next pothole that is sure to maim me and my car. Last week, I’m certain I escaped a near death scenario thanks to my son.
We had just left a Quiktrip and as I was just the tiniest bit distracted by my delicious Diet Coke with crushed ice and just a smidge of cherry vanilla syrup a humongous pothole appeared. This pothole was so big it was more like one of those sink holes you see in Florida that suck down an entire apartment complex.
Moments before I drove into this vast crevasse my son shouted, “Mom, watch out!” and I successfully managed to cross into the other lane and avoided descending into an orifice of doom. Unfortunately, the driver behind me didn’t have the same luck.
Just as we made it to safety we saw a car being swallowed by the pothole. We stopped and the driver was okay but her petite car needed life support. The tires were trashed and my son reported that the car’s undercarriage was “not good.”
Trust me, if there was ever was a time you need to embrace non-distracted driving it’s now. The current roadways where I live are like a game of Whac-A-Mole. Just when you think you’re on a smooth stretch of roadway another pothole appears out of nowhere. Parking lots are even worse. There’s a pothole by my dry cleaners that if not repaired by May could become another summer swimming facility.
I’m not blaming any municipality for the condition of the roads mainly because I don’t want the emails. Yes, some weeks I just don’t feel like dealing with loads of angry emails and anything around this topic would be chock full of mansplaining, multiple paragraph missives detailing the inner workings of city government and probably a conspiracy theory or two or four million about how the road salt lobby or “Big Salt” is in cahoots with highway construction firms to purposely destroy the roads so they can make more money repairing them.
Instead I’m going to throw all the shade at Mother Nature. Our harsh winter basically terrorized the streets. All that snow and ice and the melting and refreezing created a combo platter of asphalt distress and disintegration. I’m still though confused on why I have pothole super powers. It’s so bad my husband won’t even let me drive his car. Although, he downplays my “gift” and just calls it “an uncanny ability to hit or almost hit every pot hole.”
This ticks me off. It’s not like I’m actively seeking out all the potholes for some quality one-on-one time. It’s more like the potholes are stalking me. This means it’s time for me to offer up my superpower to cities across this great nation of ours to help locate potholes.
I know some folks have tried to get reimbursed by the city the pothole lives in or even get insurance to cover the pothole damage to their cars. But in a lot of these cases the big sticking point is that the city has to have not only known about the pothole but also had enough time to repair them. With my help every pothole could be mapped in a matter of days.
Faster than an asphalt repair patch, more powerful than Google Maps, able to protect your car’s undercarriage in a single second. It’s Pothole Woman!
Snarky in the Suburbs 