The Price of Progress
I live in a town that’s on the way to everywhere. The Highland Lakes are to the north and the wine country to the west. Two major metros are close at hand: Austin to the east, and San Antonio to the south. Those metros are growing. Highway 290 on the west side of Austin is expanding, widening, and lengthening, as is Highway 281 on the north side of San Antone. They’re daggers pointed right at the heart of the Hill Country.
The pestilence they send is cars and people. On any given weekend, the lines are long and stretch for miles. I made the mistake yesterday, on a Friday, of going south toward Boerne for a little shopping in the afternoon. Woe was me. Highway 46 at 281 is also under construction, and the traffic was intense and burdensome. I wonder if anyone will ever figure out that wider roads simply attract more cars.
In my little town, we like to think we live in the country. But cities eat country for lunch and dinner. They’re rapacious in a mindless sort of way. And the highway noise outside my door is the noise of two grumbling stomachs that need filling. But that’s progress, or life, or whatever. Let’s just say it’s the normal course of events. I guess I should be happy I got to see this place when it really was country, before it started its journey to becoming a suburban enclave.