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Loading...Once upon a time in the far away realm of Ibapah, of western Tooele County, a community of hearty citizens dwelled. In order to gain access to, or exit from, the remote location wayfarers had to cross the treacherous labyrinth of holes and crevices that riddled the passageway.
Regardless of legendary tales of damage and destruction, folks bravely continued to travel the road. Broken carriages, like crippled horses, limped along or sat vacant on the shoulder. Repair bills for flat tires, busted wheels, cracked motor mounts, struts and other damages, too numerous to mention, piled up for the citizens and travelers alike.
It was common knowledge to straddle the median and pray no one came from the opposite direction; that was until the middle became even more dangerous than the two lanes on either side. And even then, it was necessary for people to traverse the trail. For people needed to commute to their places of employment. Emergency services were often called. The local high school bus, with its brave soldier at the helm and carrying precious cargo, crossed the labyrinth twice each day.
Tribal enterprises continued despite almost daily vehicle damages. Reunions and powwows and funerals and normal on-goings were held despite mounting legends of vehicular demise. The infamous words, “Turn back, Will Robinson, turn back!” went unheeded.
On a positive note, cattle and wildlife could drink from the depths of the road reservoirs for days after the rains came.
Then low and behold, to the delight of the local residents, the presidential infrastructure proclaimed in the local papers that two grants totaling $20 million dollars were to be designated for a new and safer passageway to the realm, with 10% help from Tooele County. However no timeline was established.
Months went by. No further news. No 10%. But as trusty faithful citizens were bound to do, they began to take matters into their own hands. A knight and her diminutive band of followers, sweaty red faces and tarred shoes and clothes, were spotted, on numerous occasions, along the road filling potholes to the best of their ability.
Sir Cumference, with his unruly side-kick, labored far into the night encircling enormous holes with fluorescent orange warning paint. Beware travelers. Keep out lest ye be sorry. Alas, case upon case of paint ran out long before the pot-holes did.
Although the law-biding and tax-paying citizens took matters into their own hands, the paid entities seemed to be glaringly absent and news of road resurface plans remained a mystery.
Sadly, while fairy tales are entirely works of fiction, this tale is blatantly sad, but true.
Happily ever after will cease to be should an unfortunate traveler of the kingdom meet his untimely demise due to this pitiful disaster formerly known as a road.
Marilyn Linares
A concerned citizen of the Ibapah realm, on behalf of the other loyal subjects.
