ROAD TO RUIN (AND I WAS HALFWAY THERE ANYWAY)

I pulled into the parking lot of the establishment I had to visit, and after coming to a stop and shutting off the engine, I took a breath.

IPULLED into the parking lot of the establishment I had to visit, and after coming to a stop and shutting off the engine, I took a breath.

“Mi need a break” was the thought that came to my head.

Now, if you think I had just driven a great distance, let’s say, from Westmoreland to Kingston, that would be understandable.

However, my journey was nowhere that long, but felt just as arduous.

I had merely motored from home in the quiet bush of west rural St Andrew to a tyre shop in Half-Way Tree.

Thing is, I had to make the journey with one ‘soft’ tyre, and another that never felt quite right.

So the bobsled nuh really too steady from mawning, and then you add the bad roads to it.

Even though I was only on the road for about 30 minutes, it felt like I was a participant in The Dakar Rally. I don’t have to ride a roller coaster. If I want to be thrown about like a rag doll and feel my very bones rattling for portion of my daily life, I need only go for a drive.

I swear it’s like the roads are getting worse by the minute.

If it’s not the potholes, then it’s the bumps in the road from previous pothole ‘fillings’ that really weren’t done well.

And don’t forget the seemingly endless roadwork taking place at various sections of the Corporate Area; it feels like I’m running a marathon just to move from point A to point B. Even though the vehicle is doing all the actual work, I feel tired after driving on the roads these days.

Trust me, I have tremendous respect for the men and women of the National Works Agency. My dad used to work there, too.

And I have seen spots on the roads that used to look like they had been shelled by mortars, now neatly paved.

But I would be lying if I said I have a smooth drive from start to finish these days, no matter where I drive.

And for every area that’s newly paved, it seems another three or four minefields appear. It gets even worse when I traverse roads I haven’t used in a while. I’ll be chipping along merrily and then blaff! I swear if my car could talk, it would probably tell me what part of my anatomy will have the radiator shoved into it.

Believe it or not, the madness from Coaster bus drivers, taxi men, and pedal cyclists and motorcyclists is not even my biggest road peeve anymore.

Mother Nature hasn’t helped much either at times. With all the rain we’ve received this year (the predictions were for an active weather system season), it seems the roads have got worse. But alas, you gotta get to where you’re going. And taxi fare for me isn’t exactly a two-dollar drive. So drive I must. Guess I’ll just have to drive the way I walk, aka like a tortoise who just drank cough syrup. Great, now I just have to leave 30 minutes earlier. Sigh.