I imagine many of us have shared them |
In the still of a summer's evening the sounds of traffic softened to a slow heaving breath as tired roads unwound the busy knots and aches of a day that had seemed endless Sluggish arteries, pothole pocked suffering chronic neglect, acute accidents and roadworks, stretching languid and lazy, guaranteeing mile upon mile of conical frustration punctuated by the firefly flicker of orange warning lights Windows wound down delivered naked arms to the blistering, merciless sun harsh and hot nettle sharp in a precise blue sky Heavy sounds, bass and profound, pounded headache inducing, heartless heedless, indifferent to the helpless captive audience arrested in their automobile auditoriums each treated in their interminable isolation to the back window theatre tableau of the car ahead An arm stretched Here another, draped, cigarette dangling from the window a periodical puff of smoke between prolonged streams, drifted, twisted like the flight of some weary ephemeral fly Faces in profile mouth lines unheard in the slow dumb show: perhaps some comment about the heat; a complaint about the lack of journey's progress, and the noticeable dearth of workmen actually doing anything; a smile, affectionate, eyes locked in private lover's attention, perhaps stirred some jealousy? Nostalgia? A short moment of joy relieved the monotony of motionless motoring to the accompaniment of a mind numbing mantra of mumbling engines In time, all passing the queues dissolved like sugar in hot tea into the wider network of winding lanes council car parks, and desired destinations leaving the way clear for the few now travelling in the dusk and soon even they will relinquish the tired road to sleep lulled by the slow hypnotic blinking of orange hazard lights. |