by Bob Johnson
During the 15 years I spent in purgatory… I mean Chicago… the running joke was that the Windy City had two seasons: winter and construction.
Much-needed infrastructure repairs could wait until a train trestle, as an example, completely rusted out. “Oh, it should last another year,” was the official road department position… until it wasn’t. Instead, the construction work focused on two primary projects: installing more toll cameras and filling potholes. In that order of priority.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but we have not encountered even one toll road since the lovely Michelle and I moved to the Inland Northwest – and we have done a lot of exploring in eastern Washington, northern Idaho, and western Montana. However, we have experienced a plethora of potholes, primarily on the unpaved road that leads to our house, but also on city streets and interstate highways. The pothole, it would seem, does not discriminate on the basis of road type.
Research reveals, and long-time residents would concur, that Spokane has a significant pothole problem. The city even has a 24-hour pothole hotline. This provides drivers with something to do while waiting for AAA to arrive and fix their tires.
According to the city, Spokane’s road crews filled 3,100 potholes in 2025, some more than once. No statistics are available on how many potholes went unfilled. Honestly, that number seems low, but you can’t argue with City Hall.
March, April, and May are the prime pothole-filling months, the timing based on the winter thaw – or, this year, the winter thaws. (Are you one of the people who planted their garden too early?) That said, pothole filling is a year-round activity in Washington because of the state’s wet climate.
Post-Chicago, we lived in a desert climate before moving here, so we knew one of the big differences in our lives would be water. Specifically, the abundance of it. No longer would we need to deal with pressure-regulating showerheads or HOA spies monitoring car washing on non-designated days of the week.
About those two “conservation” policies:
Does a 10-minute shower with a pressure-regulated showerhead really use less water than a five-minute shower with a free-flowing head?
Does it truly matter whether a car is washed on a Thursday as opposed to a Tuesday?
Ironically, friends tell us that potholes have become a major problem in that desert community, the result of aging infrastructure and years without repaving. Selfishly, that news makes us feel even better about our move.
But I digress. Given that potholes are a real “thing” here, I had to learn more. For instance, how does Spokane compare to other cities from a pothole perspective?
Great news: Spokane is considered a “Top-10 City,” on a per-capita basis, for the entire country. Take that, Zags! (Yes, we know that Gonzaga University’s basketball team is officially called the Bulldogs, but we are demonstrating our local knowledge by referring to it by its nickname.) Within Washington, Spokane typically competes with Yakima for pothole superiority.
According to the American Public Works Association, potholes are created when the top layer of pavement and the material beneath it – known as the base or sub-base – cannot support the weight of the traffic. This explains why the slow lane of a major highway, the domain of big-rig trucks, tends to get more potholes than the fast lane.
Like humans, potholes have a gestation period. It begins when snow melt or rain seeps through cracks in the pavement into the sub-base. If the moisture can’t drain away adequately, the sub-base becomes saturated and soft.
The trapped moisture often is subjected to repeated freeze/thaw cycles, much like local gardeners have experienced this year. With each such occurrence, the expanding ice lifts and cracks the pavement more. This is exasperated by the passing traffic, which weakens the pavement, causing it to crack further.
While we may embrace the rising temperatures, which cause the ice to melt, the result is a void left under the pavement. This void collects more water and, during the next freeze, the void will enlarge. When vehicles drive over the weakened pavement, the surface eventually breaks, collapses into the void and creates a pothole.
It’s a process that requires multiple steps and anywhere between two and 12 weeks to complete. In comparison, the human gestation process requires only one step, initially, but takes 280 days to complete. Which brings up an obvious question: when it comes to gestation, are potholes or humans superior? I do not claim to have all the answers; my job as a reporter is to ask the questions.
Speaking of reporters, one local journalist posted this news item on New Year’s Eve:
“Residents of Spokane are familiar with the inevitable potholes that emerge in spring. However, this year’s fluctuating winter weather could mean potholes will appear sooner or worsen existing ones.”
And that was before the weather really started fluctuating. The report continued:
“Long-time Spokane locals know the potential damage potholes can cause to vehicles. Tires can go out of alignment or require significant repairs after hitting a pothole. The recent cold and warm spells this winter might lead to potholes emerging earlier than usual.”
Let’s look at a couple key phrases in that report: “could mean” and “might lead to.” In journalistic circles, the technical term for such phrases is “covering one’s back,” although one without a journalism degree might instead make reference to a domesticated or wild-hoofed mammal of the genus Equus, family Equidae, closely related to horses but characterized by long ears and a shorter mane.
It’s kind of like watching the local weather report on TV before going to bed. We stopped doing that after seven consecutive days of incorrect forecasts during one stretch in February. Our mantra now, when it comes to the weather, is: “Surprise us!”
But I digress (yet again). Because potholes are so common in this neck of the woods (and city), they have motivated punsters and joke writers to weigh in on the topic. To wit:
I didn’t hit a pothole; the pothole hit me.
My car now knows what rock bottom feels like.
Potholes are speed bumps with anger issues.
My suspension just filed a complaint.
That pothole was deeper than my thoughts.
While it’s healthy to laugh at life’s challenges, there’s no getting around the fact that potholes are serious business. In America, we spend nearly $3 billion annually on car damage caused by potholes. That’s a huge number for something that, by definition, may be only a few inches deep and only a few more inches wide.
As we’ve learned, unpaved roads present their own set of challenges when it comes to potholes – primarily drainage issues caused by the lack of a properly shaped crown, combined with high shoulders. For two weeks in March, a series of potholes less than 100 feet from our driveway gradually morphed into a single, long, giant one that stretched across the width of the road. It was so big it needed its own zip code (more pothole humor). There was no avoiding it. Friends came to visit one day, saw it, stopped and called, asking what they should do.
My initial response was, “You truly are from the big city.” When they did not find that observation humorous, I added, “Pull right up to it. Come to a complete stop. Then lift your foot off the brake pedal. It’ll be a little rocky, but it won’t do any harm to your car.”
Replied our friend: “Oh, I’m not worried about that. It’s a rental.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“We just picked up coffee and didn’t get stoppers.”
Which makes a good case for tumblers… and possibly the need for new friends.
Fortunately, we have managed to avoid pothole-caused vehicle damage thus far, in part because we’re always on the lookout for them and, in larger part, because we’ve been lucky.
Just after our friend hung up, NASA called. They want their craters back.
Award-winning writer Bob Johnson and his wife Michelle enjoy exploring the Inland Northwest, avoiding potholes as much as possible, and sharing their observations with Huckleberry Press readers.
