They're Lining Up at the Bus Stop

One hero said to another, “Which route are you taking?” The hero who knows his trade will know what the other is talking about.

At the bus station of all heroes, all heroes set out to trod their paths and plot their courses – in that order – though usually there was no use in watching* the maps and schedules because they’d end up one way or the other in some situation. It’s in the roads.

There used to be a time when there was just the path, that many paths that were already there and the hero/es set forth to their adventure. Those were the first heroes, the founding fathers, or maybe mothers, though maybe he or she was just one person, masquerading as many others.

Then there were more, and wider roads, and perhaps a dirt path or two winding away into the woods; a scenic route that brought you back to your tarmac and deliver you (safely) to your destination. The self-serving hero might bring the odd horse or two, but all that did was muck up the roads.

Roads were there because of cars, but sometimes the car came first.

There were too many cars to carry all of the heroes, so they had trains, taxis, busses, though it was high time they’d gotten a ferry or a jet-plane. The busloads of heroes are carted every day to their destination, taking the same road over and over again.

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* I know, not the right word, but it's intentional.