Road Works -Cruel and Unusual Punishment
If there is only one thing for motorists to suffer road rage from, it would be road works. When we see that dreaded sign “Men Working” our stomachs turn even just a little, and the thought is uniform: “Oh no!”
If all other industry ceased in the world there would still be road works. If there is a road, someone will think of something that just has to be done that requires digging it up and squeezing traffic into one small lane.
What is driving me to think about this is that in our little town they have torn up most of our road surfaces that were in a bad state of repair, and to the joy of the residents they have put down these smooth black ribbons of new surface for us to cruise effortlessly along on. However, to our dismay, within a day or two another set of men appeared to dig it up again. Granted, they didn’t dig up the whole thing, but they are busy making holes here and there. Townspeople look on with wrinkled brows muttering “¿Que Haces?”
Just when we thought it was safe to relax. Just when we thought we were finally getting some much needed attention from the local Valencian government, they give to us and they taketh it away.
I only hope that they put that all-important top sealer on, otherwise, the pot-holes will soon be upon us. I know that road works are essential. I hate it when the work is done, and I hate it when it is not done.
Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael
If there is only one thing for motorists to suffer road rage from, it would be road works. When we see that dreaded sign “Men Working” our stomachs turn even just a little, and the thought is uniform: “Oh no!”
If all other industry ceased in the world there would still be road works. If there is a road, someone will think of something that just has to be done that requires digging it up and squeezing traffic into one small lane.
What is driving me to think about this is that in our little town they have torn up most of our road surfaces that were in a bad state of repair, and to the joy of the residents they have put down these smooth black ribbons of new surface for us to cruise effortlessly along on. However, to our dismay, within a day or two another set of men appeared to dig it up again. Granted, they didn’t dig up the whole thing, but they are busy making holes here and there. Townspeople look on with wrinkled brows muttering “¿Que Haces?”
Just when we thought it was safe to relax. Just when we thought we were finally getting some much needed attention from the local Valencian government, they give to us and they taketh it away.
I only hope that they put that all-important top sealer on, otherwise, the pot-holes will soon be upon us. I know that road works are essential. I hate it when the work is done, and I hate it when it is not done.
Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael
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