‘Can you nip out and remove that sign.’ He slams on the break, sending me hurtling towards the windscreen at break-neck speed.
‘Yes, I can read it. You need to remove it so that I can drive there.’
‘Removing the sign will not open the road. The sign is to inform drivers that the road ahead is not open.’
‘Jan and Mike’s is a turning off that road.’
‘There’s another sign. See? It says: “DIVERSION.” So we follow that and come in from the other end.’
‘Look at all the traffic. It’ll take forever.  I’ll move it myself.’  He’s out of the car, flinging said sign out of his way.

We drive for about ten yards when a cavity as large as a  sink hole appears ahead of us.
‘You’ll have to reverse back.’ I’m gripping the edge of the seat, my voice gritty as gravel.
He’s edging forwards, veering to the right of the excavations.

A policemen appears from nowhere; the flat palm of his hand inches from the car.
‘Shit! Another fine mess you’ve got us into Stanley.’
‘It’s not a problem. stay there.’
Where would I go? Hurtle head-first into a sink hole? Tempting, though it is.
He’s out of the car, smiling, hands spread wide.
‘Hello, Officer.  We’re not local. Visiting friends who live just along here.’ He flicks his fingers in the vague direction of the now very much closed road. ‘What’s going on then? Is it a burst gas main or some such?’
‘Turn off the engine, please Sir. Step this way.’