Solomon Jones and the Pothole of Doom
WHEN YOUNG PEOPLE complain about this winter’s record snowfall, I find myself saying stuff like, “You call this a winter? This ain’t no stinkin’ winter! You shoulda seen the winter of ’96! Now that was a winter.”
When I catch myself speaking that way, I feel like one of those old guys who buy one cup of coffee for 99 cents, then spend the entire day in McDonald’s talking crap about how bad things used to be. Yes, it’s true that I drove up the East Coast during the three-foot snowstorm in ’96. It’s also true that I found myself ice skating on a slick Broad Street sidewalk that year. But to tell you the truth, there’s one thing about this year’s winter that’s 10 times worse than anything I’ve seen in the past.
The craters that have appeared in the wake of this year’s repeated snowfalls are like creatures from the god-awful horror flicks my wife watches on those old movie networks. The pothole damage is so extensive it should be featured in its own B movie.
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(Featured illustration by Richard Harrington)