A similar version of this essay was previously published on thatsrandomkate.blogspot.com May 25, 2011
There’s a street I’ve driven down oh, a few hundred times or so.
Half the time I hit some potholes in a certain block of this street. Half the time I don’t. Just random chance.
They are the jarring kind of pothole that shock my body and look like they would like to rip off a tire and swallow it whole. As a snack.
My car is still a baby and I want it to be youthful and beautiful forever. Or at least for as long as I own it.
The flow on this road is such that I often don’t notice the potholes when I’m approaching. Plus I’m usually more focused on replaying my favorite song of the day than anything else.
If I do notice them, sometimes it’s only by the swerve of the car in front of me.
These swervers usually end up pretty darn close to the valet on their right side or near swiping the car at left.
On Tuesday after I successfully and unintentionally hit both potholes, I started questioning myself why.
I saw them in advance this time, made a split second note that I was heading straight towards them…but I didn’t seem to trust that I could align my tires differently in those few moments.
Or make any effort to try.
Hey I didn’t like those potholes one bit!
Time for a change.
On the following day, Wednesday, as I drove up the same street I was thinking about the potholes with enough time in advance to deliberately avoid them.
Conscious intent to do better.
The potholes were completely filled in.