Pot o’ Gold

The winter in Tajikistan is over, but the hindrance of potholes is ongoing and tormenting.

The constant freezing and unfreezing of the roads has brought on an overwhelming encumbrance of deep fissures on our streets. The street name is “malevolent-satanic-indentations”

Leaving my driveway is often both challenging and surprising. 

 

Along my paths there are several imperfections that have come to have special meaning.

Kill Axle Bros
A twin set of cracks that are deep and devious.  They work in unison to threaten and demoralize.


The Bum Bump

This brute is particularly soul-destroying after a “bathroom associated illness”

Swiss Cheese Road

This is on the way to my friend Deb’s house.  I’m usually running late and try to see if maybe I can go fast enough to just “skim” over the tops. 
You can’t.

The Butt Crack

This is unusual in that it extends from one side of the road to the other.  There are several “butt cracks” that I cross daily.  Most motorists try to take it at an angle, as do I.  But I’ve seen a man try to take it head on.  He will take it at an angle from now on.

To handle this predicament, I propose an “Adopt a Pothole Initiative”. 

This would involve choosing your favorite pothole and cramming it with anything that will cushion the blow.  Once or twice a week you would fill up your selected pothole with whatever “filler” you have on hand.  Rocks, bricks, and sand can be good options.  But tree clippings, old furniture and the sturdier trash will also do.

Cherry-picking potholes can be a pickle. 

·         There is the one that popped your tire on the way to work. 
·         The one that bumped your sweet child’s head against the window. 
·         The one that made you grateful for each breath as you believe you were possibly involved in a car bombing. 

Yes, choosing will be a problem.

My husband who is more intimately acquainted with the Tajik government says that by the time I have bribed all the individuals in order to activate my plan, I could bring in a crew from Singapore to cleanse the entire country of this plaque.  But I continue to search for a cure for this vile epidemic

It has been a journey of self-discovery in many ways.

 I marvel at my ability to forget the location of my most hated potholes.  It’s not until I’m heading directly into the aforementioned that I recall my past dealings with it.

 I find I have a growing respect for the taxes that pay for road repair in the USA.  I will never complain about sitting in traffic behind a road crew ever again.

 I now know what a “dirty commy trick” is.

 I have the before unknown strength to face horizontal, vertical, perpendicular, round, odd-shaped and evilly arranged tribulations on the road of life. And the roads that are Tajik.