Kristopher Rikken, Blue, Black and White Alert Roads are melting in Estonia. Which is novel and interesting. Riding the Põlva-Värska road, or shall I say plying the road, my bicycle wheel makes the sound of an adhesive strip being ripped from skin. I look back to see if I leave a wake.
A memory of childhood summers in the US involves walking across blacktop parking lots (say, at the local swimming pool) in bare feet, an activity that lent itself well to competitions and demonstrations of manhood. I don't know what would happen if you tried to do this on local asphalt but it would probably not be pleasant. But while deep-black shiny slicks on roads can seem ominous, it's probably more a sign of shoddy road-building, not of the apocalypse.
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