evil pothole season

Well, I can tell that we're over halfway through winter over here in western Mich. How, you may ask?

Because half of the roads 'round my house have become pothole death traps. Between the manic-depressive freeze-thaw-freeze-thaw of the weather (with its accompanying snow-rain-snow-ice-snow) and the harshly scraping snowplows, hardly a clear patch of pavement remains, especially on older, previously patched pavement. Like the road I take to and from work.

When the roads are clear (a rarity), I can do a little fancy evasive maneuvering, but when they are coated in some combination of snow, slush, and ice, I dare not carom too wildly. Hitting a pothole is still better than spinning out and hitting oncoming traffic. Even if I do occasionally get surprised by a bad patch where none was before, where my teeth practically rattle and I pray over my suspension and tires.

It's an odd feeling when I realize that I'm glad for that rare variety of packed-down snow on the road that at least partially fills the potholes and turns that large-caliber machine gun feeling into a series of dull thumps.

If only they could pave in the winter. Alas! Well, it will be orange barrel season soon enough, and then we can all complain about that. Until then, Happy February! Only two more months of winter.