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Potholes
by Moon Mistress
a/k/a Lisa Beth Darling
The flowers are blooming after a long cold winter. Crocus, Daffodil, and Tulip pop their colorful heads through the soil to greet an ever warming sun. Trees overhead swell with buds while the adventurous gardener is turning soil and making plans for the coming season. Must be springtime in Connecticut, while this time of year is charmingly beautiful it is not without its dangers. One of which appears to enjoy lying in wait for unsuspecting or unmindful victims to happen by and fall into its trap.
Yes, Springtime in Connecticut is synonymous with Pothole Season. We all know how they’re made they’re the result of the simple reaction between water turning to ice and contracting the asphalt and the spring sun which warms it until it cracks, expands and ultimately becomes a road hazard. Still, even with the scientific explanation, the pothole is a very strange thing since it has the habit of forming over night and, in some cases, being virtually unseen by day until it’s too late. In my town there are a few places where the pothole makes a yearly home. My least favorite of which is the corner of Willetts and Ocean Avenues. Coming down Ocean Avenue towards Ocean Beach it lies in wait as one comes up the slight grade. It is well hidden and probably grinning as the tires of my car approach. It always gets me the first time, always. I never see it and as I’m going along, probably on my way home and most certainly minding my own business
Ka-thunk! Bang!
I’m jolted side to side in the driver’s seat as the tires run through this rather deep rut jarring and jerking the suspension system before returning to smooth payment once more. I think; damn it! not again! Then I remind myself that it’s there and so I won’t hit the next time. But of course I do. Sooner or later, well before anyone thinks of filling the thing in, I do remember it’s there and I look at it and grin as I drive past it thinking; you didn’t get me this time!
With regard to this same annoying pothole, if you’re driving down Willetts Avenue and you make a right hand turn to go onto Ocean Avenue this pothole is completely unavoidable. You can see it sitting there grinning up with its large open mouth just waiting for a taste of tire or perhaps it’ll be lucky enough to get the tang of metal. No matter how wide a swing you take—baring crossing the double yellow line—you always end up at least nicking the damn thing, the vehicle tips sharply to the right and you hope your tires survive. Sometimes it’s full of water and makes a great splashing wave no matter which direction you’re going in. Pity any pedestrian not lucky enough to get out of the way.
Sooner or later a crew comes by to block and hold up traffic at this busy intersection to a slow crawl. They form a bigger hole than the one already there and then fill it all in again. Nice and neat, their job done they drive away onto the next pothole. As I said it’s a very strange creature the pothole, next year it will be back bigger than the year before laughing hysterically to itself, its big mouth open and waiting for a tasty treat, it will lie in wait to play again.
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