Some roads are part of our history. One often thinks
of Route 66, immortalized in that wonderful rock track,
or the A13, from Billy Bragg's parody of said rock
track. Some roads, however, will never go down in
history, or if they do it won't be for the right
reasons. One such road is the M4. It's quite a big
road as far as the UK's concerned, stretching some 200
or so miles west from London until it gets lost somewhere
in south Wales.
Like most motorways, the M4 has all the usual
amenities: a few well placed service
stations1, nice stripes to
separate the lanes, and the odd sign that usually says
something helpful like "Huge delays: don't even think
you're going to get where you want to go today".
The problem is that it's so mind-bendingly dull. It's
a very straight road that goes through the flattest,
dullest, most boring parts of England. Eventually, you
do get to the Severn Bridge and the rather more
interesting countryside of Wales, but as the motorway
then decides to become only two lanes for most of its
remainder (and therefore technically a dual carriageway) I don't think that really counts. (And also, I
would prefer to think of Wales unspoiled by large gray
scars in its beautiful landscape.) Also, if you're
driving from London to Wales in the evening and
returning in the morning you'll have the added joy of
staring into the sun for five hours due to the east-west orientation of the motorway.
Another problem is that all the very worst drivers in
the world perpetually drive backwards and forwards
along the M4. The most common misconception these
people seem to have is that this particular motorway
has slow, cruise, and fast lanes. Most people choose
"cruise" and then sit in the middle lane for the rest
of their journey with empty spaces to their left and
right.
So to sum up: ignore the M4. If you really have to
travel from London to Bath, Bristol, Cardiff, or (God
help you) Swindon, then take the train. The train
service along this route is actually one of the few in
the UK that is reasonably fast and efficient (that is,
unless one carriage of your train catches fire at
Swindon, which has, rather worryingly, happened to me
twice). And if you must use the M4, for God's sake
don't just sit in the middle lane.
1 None more so than the wonderfully
named "Leigh Delamere".
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