On hot days when the sun shines, and the heat is so blistering that the earth itself tries to cool off in the depths of the oceans of cosmos, a lonely road may start to think. That is not
necessarily a bad thing. Many of the world’s mysteries have been solved by a road on a hot day, but unfortunately no being has ever been able to communicate with roads. In fact no
one has even tried, since it is common knowledge that roads don’t think.
The first thought that comes into a road’s mind is most often: "Damn so hot I am". Then the road may think: "Why am I here?" before it soon after remembers that it is a road, and is
made by humans so that they can have a place to drive their cars. When the road has understood that, it slowly starts to sense the world around. Bit after bit, it can feel the cars driving
on top of it, the wind blowing and the clouds moving high in the air. How the road can feel anything is a mystery, but it’s certain that it doesn’t have eyes, and definitely not hands.
You may think that a thinking road is lucky. Other roads can lay for centuries without anything in their minds. On the other hand, a non-thinking road have no idea that it is a road, far the
less a non-thinking one, and is thereby not bothered with it.
It comes to a point, in almost every road’s life, when it is demolished either by human beings, or nature. A road with the ability of thinking, will by far prefer the natural way. That is
because any road would like flowers to replace it rather than a hi-tech motor highway.
When a road understands that it hasn’t got much time left, it starts to make life miserable for the drivers. Statistics show that roads are destroyed because the number of car accidents on
the actual road is increasing.
This means that if a road ignores the feeling of destruction, and stays normal, it won’t be demolished. Unfortunately, no road has ever thought of this. So next time you are out driving,
think happy thoughts, pour some cold water out of you window and stay away from roads with construction signs.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And wither then? I cannot say.