Behold a nation-wide interactive installation (think artspeak).
My favorite permutation in this grand orchestration is the one-lane barrel maze that closes a completely serviceable portion of the road and takes traffic down to 13 MPH for 20 miles. When you finally get to the "action," it's just four guys leaning on a truck. (1)
--Dear New York: What's with the sequentially numbered exits? Everyone else has changed their exit numbers to correspond to the coordinating mileage. Ramp the hell up.
--I understand that the assertion FALLING ROCK is not an idle threat. But can someone please give me the follow-up directive? When the 10-ton boulder crashes through the sunroof on the Mini Cooper, do I use my last ever-lovin' breath to murmur .... sign ... was ... right ...?
--There is something profoundly wrong with the concept of a motorcycle trailer.
--Spied at a rest stop: A sign indicating that all vending proceeds go to the blind and handicapped hanging on a wall over a bench upon which a man with one prosthetic leg was seated. He had removed said leg and was filling his prosthesis with coins given to him by a woman who was emptying the vending machine change receptacles. Talk about your literal interpretations.
Happy trails, dear readership.
(1) Cue conservative contingent re: how's them tax dollars workin' for 'ya now, huh?
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