Ironing Out the Potholes

Ironing out the Potholes by Jeffrey D. Wagner
Thump. Pop. Hiss.
I now associate these sounds with the city’s more rural roads, some of which are infested with the Department of Public Works worst nightmare -- potholes.
Just a few weeks ago I bumped into one of these potholes and heard the ominous "thump," "pop," and "hiss" announcing the demise of my car’s tire. Rather than hassle public officials about how some city roads resemble a pepperoni pizza or Dick Clark’s face without plastic surgery, I will make one friendly suggestion -- rename Harvey Street to Irony Avenue.
My pothole encounter led to my bout with irony. I was traveling toward Myles Standish Industrial Park to buy a new cellular Phone when wheel met hole. The cell phone company had sent me a defective phone in the mail, and I was advised by an ingenious customer service representative to stop by one of their stores to pick up a replacement. That would save me the trouble, he said, of waiting for the company to send me a new one.
So, on my way to their store to purchase the cellular phone -- a device great in emergency situations by the way -- I nail the pothole and blow out my tire about a mile from the park. Needless to say, it was a cold and icy day.It’s always cold and icy when you get stranded.
I frantically ripped out my phone and began to dial AAA until I remembered the reason why I was on Harvey Street -- to get a new cell phone.Feeling frustrated, I complained and whined to myself at length before finally embarking on a trek toward Myles Standish, hoping that a pay phone awaited me on the journey. No such luck.
I wandered randomly into a warehouse building and asked a kind gentleman for a pay phone. He sent me on a mouse’s journey through a maze of seemingly endless arrays of electric saws, stacked plywood, ladders and other devices foreign to my experience.
I finally found a pay phone, called AAA and was told that a representative would arrive in about 20 minutes with a jack and a smile. The customer service representative assured me the serviceman would likely make it there before I made it back.
I jogged back to my car based on this news, not realizing that 20 minutes in AAA time equals 35 regular minutes. I even worried the AAA man would drive past my bright red Sable in search of another car on the street with safety hazards flashing.
I stood outside the car catching my breath, imagining AAA had already passed. That fear prompted me to begin waving down every vehicle larger than a Volkswagen Rabbit, thinking it could be a AAA tow truck, or maybe some Good Samaritan with a jack.Still, no such luck, but irony sure managed to strike again and heighten the drama.
A very nice Harvey Street resident came out of his house with -- of course -- a cellular phone. But I turned down his friendly offer since I was still in the throes of AAA anticipation.
As I continued to wait, I noticed that about 32 minutes had passed since my pay phone excursion. Fooling around with my defective phone, I dialed 911 and was surprised when a voice answered at the other end. It was a Middleboro
State trooper who transferred me over to Taunton Police.For some reason my defective phone came with one delightful quirk -- it could be used for "911" calls. I couldn’t use it to call anyone important, like my mom, the Pope or Mayor Ted Strojny but I could still call a rescue official in an emergency.
Less than five minutes after talking with a Taunton police officer, a patrolman came by with a flashlight and a concerned look.But -- ironically -- he showed up the same time AAA pulled up behind my wounded Sable. The serviceman fastened a spare tire onto my car and sent me on my way.
I drove off, weary from my Harvey Street adventure. Within moments Alanis Morrisette’s "Ironic" came on the radio. And for once, Alanis nasal voice Didn’t motivate me to change the station.
Isn’t that ironic?
Despite the annoyance, I do not blame city officials. I know they are working hard to repair roads. In fact, I was quite pleased with the police department’s prompt service and genuine concern.
That’s right: I’m a newspaper reporter who described a city problem but Didn’t fault any officials.
Now isn’t that ironic?
Jeffrey D. Wagner is a staff writer for the Taunton Daily Gazette.