Like a Motorway
When I come along in my luxurious and expensive motor vehicle it is too difficult to resist that open passenger door and you hop in without hesitation. I won’t be taking you for a gentle drive through undulating countryside nor for a meandering excursion along the coast. No. It is straight to the motorway. You are pinned back in your seat by the sudden acceleration as we speed away. You let out a laugh, delighted by the surge of excitement as I move straight into the fast lane and the speedometer needle climbs as we go faster and faster. It is exhilarating to be driven along by such a confident and masterful driver.
The motorway I take you on has been purpose built for me. It cuts through the landscape, not going around or under or over but straight through. There are no obstacles for my motorway. It is direct and effective. Its construction bludgeoned everything else out of the way as it made its mark on everything around it. Nothing could stop it as mile after mile it stretched across the land. Nothing gets in the way of my motorway.
You marvel at how quickly it takes you to so many different places. You smile as you press your nose to the glass and watch the signs flash past ‘Desire’,’Heaven’,’Excitement’ and ‘Delight’ are all signposted. My motorway takes you to these places in a matter of moments and no sooner have we visited one place then we are back on my motorway, speeding through the night to the next location. The motorway takes us direct to the best restaurants, the most exotic destinations, the concerts where it enables us to drive right up to the front of the stage and the hitherto exclusive and difficult places you always tried to reach are suddenly in front of you, all courtesy of this expansive motorway network.
My motorway never has traffic jams, is free of roadworks and always takes the most direct route to the destination. It is breath-taking how fast we travel along it, yet you always feel safe, content in the knowledge that I am taking care of you on this modern and well-maintained transport route.
Occasionally you see people that you recognise stood on the hard shoulder. Some of your family who watch as we speed by. You see your friends who are parked to one side as we race along. You raise a hand to wave to them but it is too late. We have already rushed by them leaving them far behind, just a passing blur. You are not concerned however as you see the next sign detailing our destination and the anticipation rises as you await your arrival at this glamorous place. All thoughts of family, friends and supporters have been left behind, as quickly as we drove past them.
Sometimes you think you see a warning sign flash on one of the overhead gantries but I am driving so fast along this wide motorway that you cannot be sure.
“Did that say danger ahead?” you ask as we zip underneath another illuminated sign.
“Oh it just a routine test, you do not need to worry about that,” I smile and you are instantly reassured. You settle back in your seat as the world and your life flashes by but you are too focussed on what lies ahead at the next destination to worry about what is passing you by. This is the ride of your life and you never want it to stop.
The car suddenly brakes to a halt. Tyres squeal and smoke drifts past as the vehicle violently stops. You lurch forward in your seat and almost bang your head on the dashboard. Disorientated you right yourself as the passenger door opens.
“Out you get,” I instruct. The smile is gone and is now replaced by a face you barely recognise as I stare ahead.
“Sorry? What?” you splutter in confusion.
“Time to go. You need to go that way,” I state aggressively and point behind you.
“What do you mean? Why have we stopped? I don’t understand,” you protest.
“Out!Out! Out! ” I bark and suddenly frightened you scramble out of the car and stand trembling on the tarmac.
“Your life is back that way,” I add as the passenger door slams shut and you watch as I roar off up a slip road next to a large sign saying “Fuel this way”.
You watch me disappear from view and then turn to face the silent and empty motorway which stretches away into the far distance. You start walking, confused and upset.
The walk back to your life is just like my motorway.
Dark grey and long.
15 thoughts on “Like a Motorway”
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You suck fucktard
The motorway is fking boring. Country roads any time.
My dad drove a Jaguar down country lanes and we played a game (usually on a Sunday). The game was to take in turns to decide which right, which left or straight on to go. My sister and I in the back seat and ‘mother’ in the front with my dad. The aim? To end up across a country pub on the route. Yup, I liked this game. My dad too. He got to have his beer, or two. Still managing to drive his Jag back home. These were the days, with no unintelligible Sat-Nav voice announcing “You have arrived at your destination”, to a field of cows or sheep, when in those days, the country pubs were not necessarily marked on a map…….. oh bless, to remember.
Thank you for reminding me of this memory HG.
I enjoyed reading another one of your splendid memories, Asp Emp 🙂
That old Jag sure did it’s job, and provided you all with a great deal of enjoyment.
Oh thank you LET 🙂
Google-mapping has ruined much.
Definitely! But you can choose to avoid using it 🙂
“The motorway is fking boring. Country roads any time.”
Agreed. Thinking it’s cool that your dad had a Jaguar! 🙂 I don’t know a lot about cars, but get the impression that a number of those are nice.
Yeah, cars made in the 70s were robust & a Jag in those days were the biz.
Ha ha, that’s sweet Asp. Did you call it ‘ a ride out’ ? We used to do that too on a Sunday. Go for a ride out into Yorkshire, similar thing but with sweet shops! My dad has a sweet tooth. I still love to just get in the car and drive somewhere pretty, don’t need bright lights fast music. We used to play ‘Which house would you have? ’I’m still house mad now. Once the kids ship out I’m going to find myself a money pit. Old, drafty windows, creaking floor boards, somewhere quaint. Childhood quirks stay with you. Lots on the blog don’t have that kind of memory to draw on, it’s nice that like me, you do and are clearly thankful.
Ah bless you TS. Yes, I’m thankful to my dad. I really hope you find your wished-for-house. Sounds great. Yeah, summat like that in a clearing the middle of the woods, maybe within walking distance of a water area would suit me. If you ever get the chance to visit London, make sure you slot in some time to mooch around in Liberty’s. My parents took us there before Xmas and the place was FAB at that time of year – in fact it looks great all the time but Xmas was special.
I did wonder if you were describing a shed 😉 The Lakes is within an hour’s drive for me. Far away from any noisy city – nice to pop in but not to live.
Hahaha, took me a minute to get the shed comment 😂. I love the Lakes. Spent a lot of weekends there and an ex had a place up in Langdale. I should take a trip back there though it’s a fair old hike from where I live now. Would be nice to go again around Christmas, so pretty at that time of year. People who live in the Lakes crave to go out in Preston. Those were the days, Tokyo Joes, Blastaway and a podium ha ha.
The Old Cock Yard U-Turn eh?
Was that next door to The Railway?
I’m not familiar with Preston, I’ve been there but not know it well enough. I did Google about ‘the yard’ though. Sounds like some dark alley? Maybe I’m reading too much into this LOL. LOL, it started going on about 1921 and showing photos of people dressed in those days. This is a site about narcissism LOL. I’m a bit ‘nutty’ tonight…..
Wow, about the Lakes. Yeah, not being that far from the area has little enticement to move from where I am. My friends were flabbergasted at how close it is and how easy it is to get a free parking space (providing you get up early and leave the house) and you know where to park! They even managed to blag half price on a boat trip across Lake Windermere! LOL – I can tell you, it has nothing to do with the charm of narcissism ! I even climbed Scafell Pike too, pity it was bloody cloudy by the time we got to the top – blurring the views. Bugger.