It’s getting hard to describe the potholes around here. We’ve been talking about them for decades and we’ve simply run out of good adjectives. We can’t even call them “potholes” anymore. Instead, we say “sinkhole” or “crater” or “axle breaker” or “The Gaping Maw of Hell Itself.” Because they are getting big. And deep.

Hopefully, things will warm up soon and the city can get out there to patch things up. Soon our streets will be all spackled up like the walls of a Water Street student rental on moving day. And there are two ways to look at this.

Firstly, you could be annoyed. I mean, we have to deal with the awful inconvenience of Planet Earth orbiting the sun in such a way as to make the Chippewa Valley all chilly and snowy, and just when you think it might be ending – wham-o ka-blam-o – enjoy a nice bone-rattling pothole everywhere you turn, why don’t you? And then, when they’re filled in with blacktop, the roads look all splotchy like an old banana. Gross.

OK, let’s call biking to work and stuff “Plan A.” And let’s call driving my car on the sidewalk “Plan B.” And let’s call jogging around town “Plan Never.”

Secondly, you could just hold your head up high and be proud. Those fixed-up holes are just the battle scars of winter, letting Mother Nature know, “Yes, we can deal with this. Potholes are worth it for the chance to live in a place with real seasons, Lady. And hey, thanks for the flowers.”

OK, let's call biking to work and stuff "Plan A." And let's call driving my car on the sidewalk "Plan B." And let's call jogging around town "Plan Never."

At the end of the day, potholes and patchwork blacktop are just the price we pay for living here and relying so much on cars. Until some smarty-pants scientist invents a cheap, recyclable road material that can withstand Wisconsin’s flamboyant tango of freezing and thawing, this is what we’ve got. So maybe you drive slower. Maybe you realize we’re all in this together. Maybe you find something different to complain about, like local cable TV providers not showing the sporting events you like to watch.

For my part, I’ve developed a healthy respect for potholes, doing my best to skirt, juke, and/or straddle them on my daily travels. We coexist. I give little nods to the really big ones that block entire lanes of traffic. Yeah, I know they suck, and I wish they weren’t there. However, I accept the fact that we’ve yet to bend the laws of physics to our liking. If we could, we’d probably apply our awesome power to less mundane nuisances such as world hunger and global warming.

At least, I hope so.

One thing our motley streets have got me thinking about is my bike, which has been gathering dust for longer than I care to admit, the poor thing. I’d much rather be out on the streets on my bike right now, as opposed to in my car. The only thing stopping me is my own laziness.

I realize bicyclists don’t like potholes either, especially since they do way less to help create them, but it’s a lot easier to navigate around some of these craters on a two-wheeler.

This is also the time of year when we start breaking out lighter-weight clothing and realize exactly what happened to all that Halloween/Christmas/Groundhog Day/Valentine’s Day/Easter candy that kept magically vanishing over the past few months. So, if you’re like me, a nice, healthy bike ride looks more and more attractive.

OK, let’s call biking to work and stuff “Plan A.” And let’s call driving my car on the sidewalk “Plan B.” And let’s call jogging around town “Plan Never.”