You know, the season between summer and fall. Or Spring and summer. Or winter and spring and summer and fall. Construction season. Heaven forbid we upset the tourists by working on the road in the summer, no, let's disrupt the lives of the locals by digging up main arteries and the side streets they'd normally use to get around. At the same time, so everyone is forced onto one narrow road at five o'clock. Just you and 5000 of your closest competitors jockeying for 8 feet of road. Welcome to the land of rocket scientists.
Then there is the 16 miles of barrels dividing the Interstate. They've been there for months, curiously there is no sign of the evasive state highway maintenance worker. Rarer than an Ivory-billed Woodpecker in these parts. Did you know driving through 16 miles of narrow construction barrels at ten at night is the next best thing to sleeping pills? Orange, black, orange, black, orange... The only antidote seemed to be Fun With Highbeams, much to the annoyance of the OtherLaners. But the black, unlined pavement is so very pretty and devoid of roadkill. So far.
Hey, just for fun, let's construct two new buildings and an apartment complex across the road from each other. Then the locals can play dodge'em front end loader, and rock'em, sock'em forklift. Did you know the speed of a loose Tyvek construction wrapper is only slightly less than the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow? (European, before you ask)
This whine has been brought to you by the elusive fifth season. Construction. We now return you to the regularily scheduled disruptions in YOUR life.
But first, a poem.
Prep Work
by Constance Brewer
Back and forth
.........back and forth
the CAT
spins over
and over and
over again.
........Back and forth
sloshing water—
a satiated farm animal,
pounding club
feet into rich soil
with lumbering
force. Back
and forth
crushing silt
and clay until
I hear bleating
under the dirt.
The sheepsfoot
roller rolls—
back and forth
.........back
and forth
.........back and
back
.........and forth.
10 comments:
Sorry for the irony,but I am going to cause even more congestion in your locale by having a tractor-trailer load of CHEESE delivered to your residence.......but don't worry,it won't be all one kind.
I ordered you an assortment..........
Here people tend to play Knock Over the Barrels a lot.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that the speed limit in construction areas is usually 60 km/h. Drive a bit, sleep, hit a barrel, jerk awake, drive a bit, sleep, hit a barrel ....
Anon, can I have some wine with that cheese? *g* And none of that "Wine in a Box" that you drink...
All teh barrels I saw were perfectly straight and new... and filled with water. Hate to hit one at the 65mph I was going, or the 85 every one else wanted to go.
Here we have 'rumble strips' on the side of the highway, carved in rough spots that rattle your teeth and hopefully wake you up.
Wine in a box has it's place....it's for when you are drinking for effect,not taste!
Oh dear lord, hanging out on a poetry blog has corrupted Anonymous! Soon he'll be writing reports in iambic pentameter... or at least like Burma Shave signs!
Constance is,as Constance does,
and she is that way because....
She wore Army boots,in her younger days,
and stayed away from Purple Haze.
Before I cudnt spel poat,now i is one!
Um, bro? You're scaring me.
Shouldn't you be I don't know... WORKING? Micromanaging your employees or something? Surely performing Bad Poetry Playhouse on your sister's blog is not a state sanctioned activity...
If not, it should be. :)
(Need to file this under "When BMW riders go horribly wrong")
Just remember,I knew you -before- you got famous!
Or is that infamous?
I'm still surprised you admit you know me at all. :p
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