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Puddle, Pothole, or Crater?

You know what I’m talking about.

Not just the “Oh, look at the pothole! Better avoid it” and then move your car easily out of harm’s way type of pothole.

I’m talking about the “Hmm, what is that thing right the–SWEET BABY JESUS ARE YOU SERIOUS?” and then spend the next 15 minute car ride convinced that you have a flat tire type of pothole.

Maybe it is because my car is a bonafide classic (that code for old piece of crap) but every single time I go over one of those bad boys, I have a visceral reaction:

A pothole in it's natural state
A pothole in it’s natural state




“Why God?”


……Well you get the picture.

It physically hurts me every time, so I can only imagine what my car is feeling.

Friggin’ potholes, man.

The only redeeming quality about the entire situation is that this is a plight that can be found anywhere in the city. But that is also the worst aspect of the situation. You can go to the nicest neighborhood in the Garden District or the poorest area in the projects and your car is still going to get it front, side and center.

And it is never just the little potholes that make you go “Whoops!” when you hit them doing 40 mph. They’re always doozies, craters, or a chasm in the middle of the street that may lead to Middle Earth for all I know. The worst part is that everyday I’m stuck in traffic because there is “construction” (usually at rush-hour on the busiest street in that area of town) that is supposed to fix said road problems.

My conclusion: It’s a lie.

Pothole in Lakeview made into art project. Adorable.
Pothole in Lakeview made into art project. Adorable.

The city keep doing “construction” on the roads so that you think the streets are getting better, but it’s all a facade. A facade to conceal the ultimate New Orleans conspiracy: the City has partnered with every mechanic, car dealer,auto parts merchant, and tire salesman in town and they all work together to ruin the vehicles of New Orleans for mutual gain. They are a united force against the drivers of the city. They meet in back rooms and they pick the best areas of the city to hide these damn things and then unleash them to our dismay. And then they laugh and laugh while we fix blown out tires and ruined suspensions.

Maybe I’m being too sensitive. It could be that New Orleans is a city built on water (really, whose idea was that?) or that keeping the city’s streets in good condition is harder because the foundation is always going to be unstable. And maybe the construction companies are doing everything in their power to fix the potholes when they can. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have to drive like I’m drunk, having a seizure, and bare-knuckle fighting a tiger in my car just to go down an Uptown street.

I like my conspiracy better because it gives me someone to blame when I narrowly miss the small canyon in the middle of the street. Or gives me someone to curse out when I hit the one that’s just further down the street.

At least these potholes make us safer drivers (I said safer not better). But if you’re still pissed, just try thinking of it this way: a paved street in New Orleans is like a new ride at the carnival.

By that I mean, everyone wants to ride on it and then one fatty gets on, breaks it, and we all have to wait another year before it gets fixed.

Aren’t we all.

About Morgan

Morgan was born in Georgia, raised in Louisiana, a Southern gal through and through. A graduate of the University of New Orleans, she loves her Saints, her city and inserting thinly veiled sarcasm throughout all her writing.

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