Slice of Life, Chapter Six

(This is part of the Slice of Life Project)

It’s pothole season and I feel it in my teeth. Here is my dilemma: there is long way to get to school that is boring and non-descipt and there is a short way to school that is quite a lovely road. I, of course, want to go the short way, and not just for the time saved. It wanders through the open fields and pastures of some local farms, moving through quiet residential neighborhoods. At one point, the road opens up onto the top of the hill with a fantastic view of a local mountain and a sloping farm with horses. I get some comfort saying a silent hello to Mr. Ed out in the fields.

So, you say, what’s the problem? Take the short scenic route.

The problem is that this time of year, after all of the snow and ice and rainfall, the entire road comes alive with car-killing potholes. Due to ts relative quiet, the road is barely on the local public works map. Driving to school becomes a death sport, swerving to avoid the holes that were not there the say before and cringing at every dip in the road. If if were safe to close your eyes, you would do it.

And so, my teeth hurt from every bump and bang in the road that jars the car into submission. It’s already at the point where I am considering the long way to school, if only to avoid a costly trip to the local garage for an alignment. Remember? It was me wishing for Spring? Yeah. I just don’t remember putting in an order for the potholes that come along with. I guess I had a classic case of New England Amnesia.

Peace (in dips and holes),

  1. Potholes what an interesting thing to write about. Love the first sentence: It’s pothole season and I can feel it in my teeth. Now that forced me to read on. That’s a true dilemma that you describe.

  2. We actually had a sign posted on a road that stated Travel at Your Own Risk because of the potholes…only in Indiana. Or I guess any state that actually has a winter!

  3. Ouch! The neighborhood where I work is full o’ the pot holes. The city seems to have forgotten the area entirely. There are several blocks people avoid like the plague because they are so hole-ridden. Our state senator lives in the next neighborhood over and is often photographed — grim, disappointed face — crouching down beside a pot hole, pointing at is sternly. It would seem he’s really only using them for photo ops, though, as none of the holes ever get fixed!

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