Paranoia Revisited

Fiorella lives in an isolated settlement of rugged individualists whose rocky tracts measure at least five acres.  In her experience, the area's worst threat is the armadillos who tear up our meager lawns, but the area's leadership figures seem to have more vivid imaginations. Remember the outcry a few months ago about non-residents driving into our idyllic enclave?  Apparently the hew and cry came to nothing once the cost of decals, floodlights, and security cameras was toted up, but then a new bandwagon came rumbling down our country road.

A person who lives in a neighboring single-road subdivision has bought land in our subdivision and wanted to build what amounted to a road on it to connect across to our road so he would have another way out when the river crossing his road out front flooded.  (Got all that?)

The neighborhood association officers promptly went ballistic and sent out communications about how the road would  threaten our security, lower our property values, and violate the deed restrictions. The last charge hit pay dirt and a a judge issued a restraining order against the would-be road builder.

What Fio draws from all this is that canny politicians will manufacture causes, often dire threats, to radicalize their troops and solidify their own power--or even just to stir up the ant hill.  Think about it.
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Modern Living?

Fio came back from New York to discover that our wrinkled, rutted, old country road had undergone a facelift.  In fact, it had been totally repaved.

No more jolts, no more jerks
What else does the county have in the works?

A yellow stripe down the middle of the road?  Cell phone coverage?

Road Writing

The tar guys have paid their yearly visit and calligraphied all the cracks in our two-lane country road.  It's beautiful--like a foreign script--maybe Arabic or a scrawled nagari.  It's also quite practical because, at the rate our road develops cracks and has to be tarred, we'll have a totally re-paved road in another two years.