At the time of Twain's visit, some roads were constructed of wooden planks. The idea behind that, I suppose, was that wooden planks beat mud as a road surface. When he arrived at his destination, Twain was asked how he had enjoyed the trip, which had been in a coach on the plank road. Twian replied, in effect, that it would have been a dandy trip, had not some rascal seen fit to throw a plank across the road every few feet. This may well have been the first instance of someone in the media complaining about Michigan roads, but it certainly won't be the last.
Some states await the return of specific birds.
Pennsylvania keeps an eye out for a groundhog. But here in Michigan, the first sign of spring is the proliferation of highways, and the sudden appearance of Gigantus Carswallowus, the deadly Michigan pothole. Large enough to devour some compact cars, Gigantus is both a source of terror and pride for Michigan residents. Chests puffed out with pride, arms swinging in expansive gestures, Michiganians will regale each other with stories of near misses, cars disappearing off the road in front of them, and groceries flying through the car as it became airborne after hitting yet another pothole. There is anger in some their voices, yes, but there is also more than a hint of pride, the sort of pride you will hear in the voices of those who watched a volcano erupt and lived to tell the tale.