Pinch of Salt: Potholes proliferate, provide pain, property damage

Let's talk potholes.

One of the side products of our very wet winter is a proliferation of potholes. You know what I’m talking about — those holes in the asphalt roadway that seem to have hidden magnets for car and truck tires.

As I understand it, potholes are created when the asphalt cracks, water gets underneath, and a passing vehicle hits the weak spot, popping out a chunk of the pavement. Little holes quickly become bigger with each hit.

Why are they called potholes, you ask (or at least I ask)? I went to the font of all knowledge, Google, to find out. And the answer is sort of fascinating.

Back in the horse and buggy days, when roads were dirt and clay, potters discovered the road ruts were an easy source of material for their pots, cups and ashtrays. Okay, maybe not ashtrays — that's just what I made in art class in fifth grade.

But I digress. The potters would dig into the ruts to find clay, leaving holes behind. The early-day version of Teamsters knew where these wagon wheel killers came from and coined the term potholes.

When it was decided to pave those mud roads so we could drive faster than 10 miles an hour, various materials were tried — the infamous cobble stones, gravel, concrete, and what became the ubiquitous asphalt. Asphalt is cheaper than concrete, and it comes in virtually limitless levels of quality, depending on what's used to make it.

Enough background. When you hit a decent-sized pothole — and we’ve all done it — there's the bone-jarring jolt. Then there's the flash of worry. Is the tire going to pop? Is the strut going to be okay?

There are stories of wheel axles being bent or broken after a pothole encounter. The potential for damage is real, and it happens to be a liability for a city, since the city is responsible for road maintenance.

A couple of weeks ago, the we published a story about a backlog of 20,000 potholes in our fair city. I have lots of confidence in our Public Works Department, but I’ll respectfully suggest that estimate is low. I’m pretty sure I dodged a thousand or so yesterday in my drive from north Long Beach to downtown.

One short stretch of my normal route is particularly bad — Harding Street from Cherry Avenue to Orange Avenue. It's a slalom course around holes averaging a foot in diameter, and anywhere from four to eight inches deep. Getting around or straddling some of those holes requires either hoping no one is parked at the curb or crossing the center line and hoping no one is coming the other way.

Oh, and it's been almost a month since the last real rain. Just saying.

I understand that there are tons of potholes all over the city, and it's expensive to get them filled. Public Works has created teams specifically to go around patching potholes, and I have no doubt they’re working hard.

But we’re talking my car here. I need my potholes repaired. Let's get our priorities straight here.

Unfortunately, filling potholes isn't a real fix. Remember, potholes are created in the first place where the asphalt is weak. Pouring a little more asphalt in a hole just provides a plug, which can pop right back out.

In some ways, those chunks of asphalt are more dangerous to tires than the holes they come from.

Road maintenance on all levels is a Sisyphean task. Between the weather and the constant pounding from vehicles weighing more than a ton to more than five tons, a road is fated to deteriorate.

But we’ve decided we want streets to drive our cars (and bicycles, and trucks, and …) on, so we need to take care of them. I’m not Arnold Schwarzenegger, so I can't do it on my own. Dear city, help me, and help my car.

Please?

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