A Tale of Two Cities, Told by Potholes and the Lack Thereof

An open letter to Richard Riordan, mayor of Los Angeles:

Dear Dick:

I’ve just survived yet another harrowing trip, from my home in North Hollywood to the Media Center in Burbank and back, via Burbank Boulevard. This trip was painful, Dick. Painful, dodgy, dangerous and seriously harmful to my car’s tires, manifold, tailpipe and suspension.

Oh, don’t get me wrong: From about Cahuenga Boulevard east, Burbank is a dream passage, a delightful coach ride on velvet wheels, a smooth slide, like skiing down a marshmallow mountain. In other words, the road is completely smooth . . . on the Burbank city side.

I got to the Media Center, went about my business and then, with a sigh and a hunching of the shoulders, steeled myself for the ride home.

As I crossed Cahuenga and Burbank, that magical delineator, the hell began: potholes in which it would be conceivable to lose a Shetland pony; cracked, broken, torn up asphalt, huge chunks of which lay about the roadway (and I use this word advisedly) like an obstacle course designed by very short demons; dips at intersections that cause the rear end of my van to rise so high in the air that I feel very certain that Leonardo DiCaprio will be springing forward any moment, hollering, “Put on your vest, Rose! This is it!”

And then there are these mysterious “ribbons” of road, like eight-inch-high pond ripples in a solid surface. What are those, Dick? It’s as if some sort of asphalt monster had just swum underneath the roadway, leaving these wake marks behind.

And they’re such a brilliant test of one’s driving talents, not to mention courage, because God help you if you run up onto one of them. They direct your car wheels, Dick, as if your vehicle were on an amusement park ride track. Will we be directed into Mister Toad’s Wild Ride, or into oncoming traffic? Who knows!

See, Burbank Boulevard west of Cahuenga is on the Los Angeles side of the equator. And it’s a mess.

Oh, when the new NoHo police station opened, there was a half-hearted attempt to fix the road. The street was ripped up from between Lankershim Boulevard and Colfax Avenue and left to lie fallow. It remained untouched for eight weeks. Then, several days before the star-studded, media-attended opening of said station, the road was paved. It’s already cracked, shredded, potholed and generally in almost as bad shape as before.

So here’s my proposition, Dick: Fix Burbank and I’ll vote no on Valley secession. Simple as that. And it’s my considered opinion that I’ll be clattering and clanking and jouncing my way along Burbank Boulevard for a good long time to come.