Op-ed: I’m A Broad St. Pothole And Wrecking Your Axle Is The Best Part Of My Fuckin’ Day

It’s 7:30 a.m. on a beautiful Tuesday morning and you’re heading into work. You pull out of the garage below your downtown condo and begin your morning commute with all the other motorists, jacked up on obscene amounts of caffeine and pre-workday angst.

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Eventually, you make your way onto my turf, the spear of a street that strikes through the heart of Richmond and throughout the countryside: Broad Street. I’ve been here for a while, and you don’t know it, but you’re inching closer and closer to me with every stoplight.

I can’t fucking wait to make your acquaintance.

Here you come past Lombardy Street, checking out university students heading to their morning lectures. They stand on the sidewalk, chatting about the latest gossip from the weekend before. They’re safe from me, but you aren’t. You and your 2013 Ford Fusion are destined for an introduction with me that’ll be unforgettable.

And then it happens—BAM. The noise wakes you up more than that caffeinated garbage you call “espresso.” The horrifying sensation—the bump—is even better, though.

You’ve just met me, the city’s most notorious unfilled pothole, and I just wrecked your axle like it was made of toothpicks. Pleased to fuckin’ meet you.

You can’t stop now, so you just keep driving until you reach your office park. You begin to worry about the visit to the overpriced body shop you now have to factor into your evening commute, or worse, during your pathetic lunch break. The thought of how much money I’ve just drained from you makes you sick to your stomach.

And it’s the best part of my day. It’s cathartic for me. I exist for no further reason than to fuck your car’s frame up and flatten a tire. If I’m feeling generous, I may even cause a fender bender. You’re welcome.

I can’t wait to do it again to the car behind you, and then the car behind that one, and then to the one behind that. I’ll be the Broad Street saint of vehicular destruction. It’ll be my opus.

See you down the road, bucko. You know what I mean.

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