Once
in a while, one encounters the truly absurd. There is a marred, narrow track which runs past our country cottage. I have driven the full length of it only once, and wife E. had her doubts then that I would succeed. One seldom sees anything on it but cows. Last week, however, a flood damaged the village's main bridge. They closed the main road,
and with the help of a grader rerouted it past our cottage (this shows a rejuvenated road). The whole
world seemed to drive past -- several school buses included, with cheering, waving children apparently excited to be taking a different route.
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