I remember driving west from downtown Los Angeles one evening in 2009. The lane next to the sidewalk was filled with deep potholes and almost every driver avoided it but me.
I ploughed along, grateful that my path was free while everyone else idled in traffic.
I did some major damage to my vehicle however and that cost me about a thousand dollars to fix.
LOS ANGELES — The southwest border of Beverly Hills runs along Whitworth Drive. In some ways, it is impossible to distinguish where that city ends and this sprawling one begins. The houses are not drastically different and the lawns are manicured on both sides of the road.
Oh, but that road.
Drive west on Whitworth and the car rides like a luxury sedan. Drive east and it is more like a covered wagon bouncing across a pockmarked prairie.
There are no snowstorms here. The swings in the weather might make those from heartier parts of the country scoff. But there are potholes aplenty. Indeed, on some major streets, every downpour seems to bring another jarring rut.
In a city where driving takes up an enormous amount of physical and mental energy, it is hardly surprising that the holes in the roads provoke deep irritation, the sort of thing that residents pester the mayor about when they spot him out and about.
