The Sign Of Summer

The sign sits ten feet from the entrance to my driveway, and, as advertised, the county road builders are busily repairing the main road to town. At the moment, and in their second week at it, the crew has sliced off one shoulder of the roadway as easily as I cut through a Sunday pork roast. If they stay the course, this part of the rebuild will continue for another five miles—and that’s only one side. The undulating pock-marked pavement where vehicles actually travel is in far worse shape, although small children are probably thrilled by the roller-coaster ride near the top of the hill, but I’m not going to get started  on that.

Besides, you know the story already. No sooner are your summer vacation plans made than the city/state/county where you live starts a network of unfathomable repairs at all hours of the day to upend your itinerary. You can be certain that, when you meet a sign like this one, another will appear shortly after it—Detour Ahead.

Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it. —Russell Baker


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