Like dark clouds collecting before a storm a hard sterility has crushed the cavalier spirit which crowned their early days by way of death, speed cameras and congestion. Motorways are now a means to an end, there is hardly a sense of excitement at the prospect of new roads being opened. Local protest appears more likely to manifest amongst people keen to keep the drone and fumes away from their homes.
Despite their relentless unease I find grace in these magnificent roads, the palisades, the drivers and concrete tunnels. A sense of flying through the country, elevated as if magically teleporting in evolved vessels of glorified metal. The landscape which has reformed itself to complement the slick redesign of wizzing steel. The the wonderful collaboration between people and their vehicles, all accepting to roll dice with death and put their trust in one another.