It was a cold and dark evening. The rain was pouring down on us like we were in the shower, and the fog was thickening as we closed in on the little piece of nature in the middle of the road. The bushes and the grass were barely visible through the paste of the fog, but was still calling out our names as if they wanted us there. The rain started to move sideways and was hitting the glass like cannonballs on a lake.

But then, it was suddently time. Time to start the blinking. The initial crack in the lever sounded harsh and brutal, and was then followed by a tender clicking from the lights. Like clockwork, the guiding glassbulbs switched on and off whilst telling all the others invaluable information.

And then, the turn. It started out with a gentle turn on the steering wheel, but was soon interrupted by a rough twitch in the other direction. The wheels were held stable for the duration of the turn, even though all the independent objects in the vehicle were being thrown agains the right wall with unbearable g-forces.

But eventually, the turn was over and we could once again relax on straight asfalt. At the end of the day, all you can wish for in a roundabout is to stay alive.


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