Perhaps people purveyed this information, but there is a wicked wheel eating pothole at the top of Democracy soon after the right turn out of the Other-Haves Lives neighborhood.
How do I know this? Glad you asked.

I was in the N2 Poolesville Paceline winding up for that-stretch-of-road-where-we-go-fast-up-to-that-sign-covered-with-trees (non-sprint) when Steve (back to him later) warned of a "Hole!!!"
On his wheel, I never saw it coming, but braced for an impact that almost shook me off the drops (but managed to save my more valued, uh, hardware). I immediately knew my back wheel was f***ed, but I had still has air pressure, so Scott A and I (Scott B?) stuck to our plan of a 1-2 finish. Sizing up our comrades as a bunch of lightweights, our plan seamlessly played out as the feared Greg & Phil took early lead-outs and we Scottsmen hammered it home as they faded but only to be overtaken on the inside by the same Steve who tried to save my a$$ - this after dropping his chain!

ANYWAY, once we regrouped at 7 Lox we inspected the damage which was immediately obvious as the rim of my rear Rolf Sestriere was taco'ed like nobody's business. A deep sigh, but I knew these wheels were on borrowed time - I bought them 4 years ago from Big Mig for $300, this after he, Pepper and probably half the shop rode these superlight delicacies (the Marilyn Chambers, RIP, of Bicycle Place wheels). Game over.

My esteemed comrades, who I hold in only the most favorable light, asked if I would be okay to get home, a scant 3 mile direct route. "No problem - she's still holdin' aar" (In my best Scotty of Star Trek accent - hey, I ride a Trek!). Yeah, well I go not a quarter mile before the front wheel gives up the ghost and I immediately recalled the beginning of the ride when I handed Phil P my spare to replace the one he gave up after I double flatted three (3) weeks ago. ARGH!
Melissa was in the shower and Nathan was asleep (and 15 years too young to drive), so I clacked the rest of the way home.

In short, watch out for this pothole.