Editor's Blog Aug 02nd 2012
Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads
These are the memorable words uttered by Doc Brown at the end of Back to the Future Part 1 when Marty McFly realises that the DeLorean doesn’t have enough road distance to get up to 88mph and propel them into the future. Sadly, until we are able to change flying DeLoreans from Science Fiction into Science Fact, we are still going to depend on roads for a long time; and that’s a bummer (in more ways than one!).
So, with this in mind, why are our local roads so s*@t? There isn’t a length of asphalt in Gibraltar that is not scarred with lines of resurfaced trenches, pockmarked with potholes or cracked under the weight of heavy goods vehicles. A drive around our Rock is equivalent to sitting atop a washing machine full of ball bearings spinning at 1600rpm whilst experiencing a Force 10 earthquake. It is a bone-shuddering, bum-numbing, brain-joggling experience to drive our roads. In fact, in order to distract myself from the spine trauma suffered while driving, I have created a little game! I have made a mental map of where all the major potholes are located on my regular routes through Gibraltar and I have managed to figure out a course through the minefield, dodging gaping chasms and violent humps, in a vicious slalom so as to avoid smashing my axles to pieces.
When I purchased my car I was told that the usual vehicle ailments mechanics in Gibraltar deal with are burnt out clutches, from so many low gear changes and hill holds, and smashed shock absorbers, from road surfaces more appropriate to a war zone than a prosperous little town. I suppose the dodgems game I play with the potholes is much easier to negotiate on a moped (as two wheels are more manoeuvrable than four), but as an occasional cyclist I find this two-wheel advantage becomes more of a hindrance than an aid to negotiating my way through the hazards.
Restricted to the side of the road (where all the manholes, grates and road cave-ins seem to be located) and not having any suspension or room to manoeuvre for fear of death by car or inconsiderate moped-rider, I regularly find myself bouncing in and out of the ridiculous number of potholes littered around our roads. So violent are some of the impacts, due to the depth of some of these holes, that I frequently come away believing that I may need to have my bicycle saddle surgically removed from my rectum.
To add asphalt insult to anal injury, when resurfacing does happen it only happens for that little stretch of road where the major crevasses live. Surely stripping the entire length of the road bare, down to its base level and completely resurfacing the whole lot with pristine, flat, smooth tarmac would be infinitely better than filling in the gaps? Otherwise, what we are effectively doing is sticking a plaster over the wound, and we all know that plasters easily come unstuck, and often leave you in more pain once removed!
Gibraltar needs a full scale, regular resurfacing programme in order to maintain road surfaces that are subjected to very high levels of traffic on a daily basis. It is unbelievable that one cannot negotiate a single route through or around town without feeling they are meandering through the bombed-out streets of downtown Basra! So, until Doc Brown’s prophecy comes true and “we don’t need roads”, let’s get a jog on with fixing the poor excuse for street paving that our taxes apparently pay for!
Typed by a million monkeys, on a million typewriters, under the supervision of Eddie.
