Mar 13, 2015 3 min read

It came without warning. On a dark night in the city, I got in my car and made a fateful trip home when I encountered the “Pothole that Ate Pittsburgh!” Dunt dunt da!

Actually, I hit a pothole. It’s unfair to call it a pothole. It was the size of a lunar crater. The streets of Pittsburgh look like the surface of the moon. This particular beast was on Banksville Road somewhere between the Eat’n Park and the Arby’s.

Side note: I just recently learned that Arby’s is not the name of the company founder, but an answer to a bizarre riddle. Roast beef abbreviated is R.B. Arr Bee. Arby. Am I the only person who didn’t know that? I’m pretty sure I was the last on the list.

Don’t get me started on Eat’n Park. I always thought, “You’d better park BEFORE you eat, or you’re going to run over all of the waitresses.”

But I digress, like I do. I thought nothing of that treacherous hole until I pulled into the driveway and the tire pressure warning light came on. It was late on a Saturday night, and I thought I’d just deal with it in the morning when my mind was fresh. On Sunday, I woke up and completely forgot all about it. My brain was not so refreshed. Clean and devoid of thought maybe, but not fresh.

I was on my way to a matinee at City Theatre. I like going to the Sunday matinee because I am the youngest person in the audience. As I drove down Carson Street, I remembered that my air pressure warning light came on. OK, so it was less that I remembered it and more like it was staring in my face, but you get the idea.

On the way home from the theater, I stopped at a local gas station to put air in my tires. One tire was not as round and full as the others. I listened for a hissing sound (as a comedian, I am acutely aware of hissing sounds). I didn’t hear it. I should have been looking more and listening less. I had cracked the rim of the right passenger tire on that monstrous pothole.

Monday, I had to have the tire removed so some guy could fix the rim. I had to drive on the doughnut.

By the way, I use doughnut and not donut. Doughnut is both the tire and the ring-shaped fried cake we all know and love. Though donut is acceptable, it really came into use when Dunkin’ Donuts popularized it in the late 20th century. I think of it as more of a trademark thing, like when people say, “Grab me a Kleenex!” and not, “Grab me a facial tissue!”

Anyway, that little moon crater on Banksville Road set me back more than a hundred dollars. But I shouted, “Mr. Pothole, you can take my money, but you can’t take my smile!”

Heed my advice: Watch out for bumps in the road. Don’t let them take your happiness.