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Show Once again "Ye Olde White-rocks White-rocks Road" jumps into the limelight. lime-light. This time it has to do with that stretch of mudway which extends east from Whiterocks toward Tridell. A short year ago the above mentioned road was paved with cobble rocks of various sizes and shapes. The family jalopy jumped, jiggled, squeaked and groaned but made it. A complaint was entered to the Indian Road Department that there was much liver disorder, dis-order, many loose kidneys, sundry sun-dry fillings jarred loose from teeth and numerous good natures na-tures ruined by the jarring and joggling over the ice age cobbles which adorned the road. Results were obtained. The cobbles were plowed up and tossed among their sisters and brothers oh either side of the road. A good trench, road-wide, road-wide, was excavated. Then the road men hauled in good old Little Lit-tle Valley clay. (By the way, are you acquainted with that kind of clay' When wet it is a combination com-bination of chewing gum raw asphalt and Tridell honey.) This bit of Little Valley was spread to a depth of about 14 inches. Boy! Did that whip the cobble rocks! , Then came the storm! For the past several days the only thing which can negotiate the road is a helicopter. School busses, bus-ses, bread wagons, produce trucks, family cars and equines have mired so hopelessly that the road is shunned like a house infested with the small pox. One poor fellow got out to push and lost his shoes. He stuck his pencil in the mud to mark the spot where his shoes went down and continued with his pushing. When he went back even the pencil markers had been swallowed up in the goo. No shoes, no pencil and rants resembling the inside of an adobe brick were his lot. Now the hue and cry is "Give us back our good old cobble rocks; Them we can endure. But mud that pulls off shoes and socks Will keep us stuck for sure. Delia Francis I Whiterocks |