It is said that eons ago, a wise and benevolent squid elder named Ozymandias possessed the power to manipulate the very essence of chalk.

When the squid community faced a perilous migration across treacherous terrains, Ozymandias would emerge from the depths and lay down chalk roads, imbued with his magical ink, to guide his fellow squids safely to their destination. These chalk roads glowed with an ethereal blue light, illuminating the darkest depths of the ocean.

As time passed, the squids would harness the power of Ozymandias' magical ink to transform themselves temporarily into living chalk roads. By intertwining their arms and tentacles, they would create a network of living paths on the ocean floor, allowing other marine creatures to traverse great distances with ease.

Yes.

Practical Engineering is a great channel for anyone even slightly curious about civil engineering! Grady does a great job at making infrastructure perfectly accessible

I'm more of a bartering squid.

I’d shop at a store named Trader Squids, that sounds awesome

The future is now

The medieval track probably turned into a long mud pit after any prolonged rain.

Yeah, I was more than a little bit surprised by just how unpleasant victorian roads would seem to feel. I knew it was bumpier, but that's all bumps and nobody cared? They just left it and went home?

It's a British display and Jaguar was a British company. It's owned by Ford now.

I thought the same thing, interesting choice.

One day through the primeval wood A calf walked home as good calves should;

But made a trail all bent askew, A crooked trail as all calves do.

Since then three hundred years have fled, And I infer the calf is dead.

But still he left behind his trail, And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day, By a lone dog that passed that way;

And then a wise bell-wether sheep Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep,

And drew the flock behind him, too, As good bell-wethers always do.

And from that day, o'er hill and glade. Through those old woods a path was made.

And many men wound in and out, And dodged, and turned, and bent about,

And uttered words of righteous wrath, Because 'twas such a crooked path;

But still they followed—do not laugh— The first migrations of that calf,

And through this winding wood-way stalked Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane, that bent and turned and turned again;

This crooked lane became a road, Where many a poor horse with his load

Toiled on beneath the burning sun, And traveled some three miles in one.

And thus a century and a half They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet, The road became a village street;

And this, before men were aware, A city's crowded thoroughfare.

And soon the central street was this Of a renowned metropolis;

And men two centuries and a half, Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout Followed the zigzag calf about

And o'er his crooked journey went The traffic of a continent.

A Hundred thousand men were led, By one calf near three centuries dead.

They followed still his crooked way, And lost one hundred years a day;

For thus such reverence is lent, To well established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach Were I ordained and called to preach;

For men are prone to go it blind Along the calf-paths of the mind,

And work away from sun to sun, To do what other men have done.

They follow in the beaten track, And out and in, and forth and back,

And still their devious course pursue, To keep the path that others do.

They keep the path a sacred groove, Along which all their lives they move.

But how the wise old wood gods laugh, Who saw the first primeval calf.

Ah, many things this tale might teach— But I am not ordained to preach

• The Calf Path by Sam Foss

Yeah I used to live in the area and the 303 has a local reputation for being absurdly busy at the roundabout near stonehenge, especially during the summer solstice.

Roman road was likely better. They knew what they were doing and the quality of turnpikes were mixed at best.

This is really cool! Which museum/where is something like this?

If you bring your own shovel it's a lot of roads over here in the UK

"Where We're Going, We Don't Need Roads"

Charred bones.

Metal rails

High tech Japanese superconducting MAGLEV trains (someday).

They're burying it, so... air, then the top of a tunnel.