Let me elaborate:
The roads in Saint John are not for the faint of heart. They are twisting, potted, patched and pitted with most yellow and white lines missing or faded beyond recognition. Decades of shaded grey tar and layered pavement speckle the streets, avenues and thruways of this industrial seaside city. If you are not familiar from whence you are going you will get lost or in the least damage your car during your trek.
One learns quickly and avidly takes delight in swerving into oncoming traffic so as to not hit a monstrous gaping hole in the road and becomes adept in the management of not looking ahead to far while driving which in turn circumvents everything one was taught when learning to drive as a teenager.
I can remember the driving instructor saying “Jessica, look ahead 3 telephone poles and follow at least a car length behind the vehicle in front of you for every 10KM of speed you are travelling.”
At 11:00PM on Saturday night I was driving home on the twisting winding Old Red Head road after deciding not to take the new, improved, speedy highway as the old road is vintage and just plain to damn cool to not drive upon when I hit this patch of blazing black freshly paved surface. No bumps. No more swerving. No more orange pylons marking where the road had washed out or deteriorated. I slowed right down to 20 clicks. I smiled deeply looking at the moon upwards in the sky and staring at the glittering sea to the left and with the looming gigantic science fiction inspiring Irving oil refinery in front of me… Wow! Inspiration. Juxtaposition. SILENCE.
Brain on Overload
I almost wanted to pull over and just listen to it all. It was so quiet on that road that night. As quickly as it began it was stolen again and I resumed the road war to get home along Bayside Drive. Holy shit that road is in rough shape.