Look at this fucking monster. When I drove my car toward it, I didn't anticipate a bump -- I anticipated a visit to Land of the Lost.
Watch out for Sleestaks, Rick Marshall. We're going in!
When the 46th Street ramps were closed until 2010, I was mildly nonplussed. Little did I know that driving an additional 10 blocks might send me to my subterranean demise, pothole style.
This beauty at 38th and Nicollet is a hole like the Grand Canyon is a hole. The scope, scale and majesty of the crater is so much more. It looks like Paul Bunyan formed it while skipping a rock, likely a meteor. Also, it is in Kingfield, so I'm sure it is somehow Neighborhood Association President David Brauer's fault. But sabotage will not keep me from my appointed rounds. No sir.
Look at the expanse of it! The breadth! While I was taking this picture I saw three small children, a Roosevelt elk and an endangered Minnesota lynx disappear into its surly clutches. I probably should have helped out, but I figured I'd just call Geist instead. So I just drove on, having missed my opportunity to spelunk with the Sleestaks.
Send us your worst potholes. If I get enough, I'll Google Map 'em.