West End Surrealism

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Last night I was riding down from Greentree to the West End bridge, uncertainly, not sure what to expect of the construction and traffic. I hadn’t ridden through West End circle more than a couple times, and not in a year or so.

Before heading to the circle, I detoured down Main Street to take a look at the construction site. Past the first Road Closed sign, past the second Road Closed sign, past the third Road Closed sign. I stopped. A hundred feet ahead of me, a young deer stood in the middle of the road. It looked about, uncertainly, in the construction dust, standing on the white line, looking at a parked backhoe, looking at stacks of concrete cylinder pipe, the yellow lights blinking. “Yeah”, I said, “I’m not sure where to go from here either”. It stepped delicately across the street, sniffed a concrete barrier, walked out over the gravel, toward the trees along the stream. I turned around to get back on the roads.

On Steuben, with no cars behind me or in front, I approached the West End circle. A green light for my entrance into the rotary. To my left, a long line of cars waited behind a red light. I rode into the circle, no cars around me. Another green for me — to the right, a line of cars from Saw Mill Run had to wait behind a red. I rode under the RR overpass and headed for the bridge, a green light pointing the way, more cars to my right from Carson waiting behind another red. I alone had the right of way as I rolled on the bridge. Was some benevolent traffic engineer watching me from up on the hillside, switching the traffic lights, for me, for his amusement? OK, I’ll take it.

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