A pit or hole produced by wear or weathering (especially in a road surface)

Usage examples of chuckhole.

Hearing the unending whine of tires on interstate concrete, broken only by chuckhole thumps and the stepdown of gears as the bus pulled off the highway for one of its frequent stops to expel or ingest passengers, to refuel with liquefied coal and resupply with boiler water, to allow passengers to consume lukewarm food at dirty bus stations or anonymous diners.

Behind him, a branch snapped or a booted foot found a chuckhole covered by leaves, or leather armor was tangled briefly in some brush.

If you surf over a chuckhole, the robo-prongs plumb its asphalty depths.

The stun bunny left her with a persistent nosebleed and an eternal throbbing headache, and every time the van hit a chuckhole, her head bounced on the Corrugated steel floor.

So Jarek whipped them into a trot, jouncing the wagon along the chuckholes in the graveled road, while the wind off the mountains picked up both strength and chill.

It was remarkably free of ruts and chuckholes for most of its length, although the Explorer scraped bottom a few times when the track took sudden, sharp dips.

Early that afternoon, rain turned ruts and chuckholes into small ponds.

Her car jolted into rots and chuckholes, sloshing muddy geysers over her windows.

The road here was two lanes of blacktop with numerous chuckholes and narrow places.

Centerville looked mighty good, from elms overhead to the chuckholes under foot.

We were charged with a terrible urgency to get there, now -- to move, to act -- but this road was a hopeless dusty mess of great twisted ruts, sharp-edged little chuckholes, and frequent wider, deeper holes that could break an axle if you did more than slowly ease your car into and out of them again.

He pushed the Lincoln hard, overextending its flaccid suspension and denting its axles in the pits of unseen chuckholes on Canal Street.

Encountering chuckholes, cracks, and patches in the pavement, the tires stuttered as hard as rapping hammers, and Dylan worried about the consequences of a blowout at this lightning pace, but he pressed the Expedition to 96, taxing the shock absorbers, torturing the springs, onward to 97, with engine screaming and wind of their own manufacture shrieking at the windows, to 98, between bracketing big rigs, around a sleek Jaguar with a cruise-missile whoosh that elicited a disapproving blast of the sports car's horn, to 99.