Friends, let's talk about my life, my single life in the city. Like many other men who passed the university, life is summed up in a cycle of work to pay the bills. The lucky ones form a family, or have a partner who shows their happy life through social networks. My case: a job that requires unpaid overtime and occasional field trips. Yes, to the countryside where the people who cultivate live…

My week has been disgusting, the truth is that it could be worse, but my boss is “heavenly”. The work in the office was the review of a construction project for a third party. Nothing better than starting the week reviewing the work of others, on which your own depends, and with a boss looking over your shoulders. Well, I guess that's his job, "to look over his shoulder", because congratulating a job well done is way below his pay...

The new project was a new industrial park. Quite interesting from the construction point and the development of the area. The new facilities have a small factory for aluminum elements, another for plastic, beverages and chemical products. All powered by a new power supply brought from the largest electrical subtesting in the area. Water, essential for all life on earth, cannot be lacking in these new factories, a supply that we obtain from a small river connected to the sea. The new hydraulic plant is responsible for making the water drinkable and supplying solid 10,000 liters per day. Not bad for the new industrial park.

-Well, you will say, where did you have a bad week, or was it a life?

Well, as always, management likes to "apply intelligent cost reduction mechanisms." I emphasize "smart" and "costs." Well, it is nothing more than saving how much money they can, to the shareholders of the company. The result of these "mechanisms" is to screw my department and the workers. My great boss gave me the honorable task of auditing the new construction plans, as well as making the lists of materials to be purchased.

And you will say: what where they screwed me? Ha ha ha.

That the projects of a third party involved, are not construction plans burped and sent by mail. They are a service that must involve the planning of construction activities, the order list of raw materials, logistical help and, yes, the visit of the designers on site to see that everything is going as it should. The work of an entire team, this server's turn, for the modest price of a day's work, like that, without further discussion. It was enough for the head of planning to call me at his office, throw me a couple of folders and that's it. Money saved for the company and ready to be “invested” in key areas.

I will give no more tears. We have all had a boss, that we would like to put a beautiful tie on. Yes, hehehehe, very tight. As I think about how to put on his tie, my eyes close and my imagination flies in what would be the best way to measure his tongue out of his mouth: a ruler or a tape measure... What can I say, once an engineer, always an engineer. We are fascinated by measuring, by quantifying things in numbers.

Well, on a minuscule budget, or was it non-existent? Because the food and drinks come out of my pocket, they send me on a road trip to see a supplier. This supplier in particular gives its products extracted from a quarry at a “very good price”. Yes, a quarry where you can scream and not a soul will ever know you were there. Hence a road trip in a bricklayers' van. At least they left me a driver for the trip.

The van after two years, well used in the various workplaces, with drivers changing regularly. More regular change of drivers than engine oil. You understand me. Well, as I would say politely: the van lady is a mass of paint, to give it the appearance of new.

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The seats are well rounded inside. If you're lucky, your butt fits perfectly into a hole made by your fellow workers. Think of how a drop of water perforates the rock, wearing it down for hundreds of years. Well, the same for the seats and their users in extra weight. If you're unlucky, you can feel more than is allowed sexually, I think, because of the springs in the seat. It's amazing how discovering places in your rear and the deep need for protection. Every bump in the road is an adventure…to keep your dignity intact.

Road trips are fun. Yes, you are looking at the country landscape, the fresh breeze that enters through the window and your mind free from the saturation of the city's billboards. It is a fascinating thing to enjoy, a good trip through the countryside. What problems can there be in such a relaxing environment full of wildlife.

After I don't know how many turns, descents, potholes and dust; we find the bridge of the “main” road. Ha ha ha. Seriously, yes, it's the main road, one lane...

The driver, like me, had never been here, so getting lost on the road was not an option, it was, by all laws, the most solemn obligation of the day. If there are no traffic signs, out of the cell phone network, and with a map printed on a sad A4 sheet, hell, of course we got lost.

No, I can't complain, the country folks are all very helpful. When they were called to ask for directions, it was always a smile and very attentive. It was always something like this: Well, good man, go straight until the next ravine, you will see later, a detour to the left in the grove of…, some type of tree or crop that I cannot identify, even if you hit me with it in the face . Because damn, I work in the city, I'm not a botanist, nor a geographer, to identify the signs.

At first the driver and I looked at each other. And we came to a quick understanding: ask about what the plant, tree or whatever it was that was the point of reference. The peasant saw how stupidly we both looked at each other. And then he added: don't worry, it's very easy to find the way. God, how I hate that phrase.

- Yes, road trips are fun- I told the driver, because the awkward silence after having exhausted all possible topics between two strangers had ended hours ago.

I didn't wait for the answer, because both the driver and I were already grumpy.

A bit of trial and error, we found the road to the quarry. Thanks to the great sense of orientation, of the males of the human species, we find the route. We can feel superior, it only took us a delay of 3 hours, to realize where the detour was. Yes, a woman would have much more trouble orienting herself...

The wooden bridge was growing, as if it were coming out of the same land as we got closer. The structure of the bridge was made up of oak beams, with steel supports for the joints. Its pillars were very deep trunks, a good 4 meters from each other. The road full of growing grass, which did not give much help to find the hidden potholes. Well, it's not like those who live here don't have anything better to do than cut grass and fill potholes, right?

We start to cross the bridge, I jump the idea that a painting could not hurt. Then I remembered who was going to care, and the thought passed through my mind. Yes, a crack entered my ear, clearer than I would recognize in my own trembling voice.

- Mark, did you hear that?

The driver didn't even look at me, he just said laughing - it's an old bridge, my bed makes more noise than this-

Apart from the unwelcome joke on my part, another creak brought my sight back to the rafters. What I felt afterwards was like something inside my stomach, became a ball, and tried to go up looking for my throat. Damn, the beam closest to me was breaking. The fissure was widening with the naked eye. Damn, don't tell me Marcos, your bed does this too, I thought in my mind.

The next thing I felt, or rather, that I didn't feel, was how the intimate spring of my seat stopped bothering my butt. Or yes, the van was sinking, and fast. My mind was frozen.

I turned to see the driver, hoping that maybe he had something to remedy this problem. Isn't he driving the van? Well, he has to have a solution. How dumb can I be...

Marcos was bent over the rudder, which he was pressing so hard, that you could see on his skin, how the blood was leaving his hands. Yeah, I think I can be sure now, we're screwed. That and that I can already see the bottom of the ravine, approaching to welcome us.