The M62: A Road Between Two Thorns

Outside of fairly niche circles of people who probably ought to be electronically tagged I’m not sure that anyone has written an opinion piece about a motorway before. That’s not something I find particularly surprising though given that they’re generally fairly uninspiring and can be almost universally summed up in one word quite tidily; ‘shite’. 

That being said I’m still going to persist with another few hundred words, so buckle in. 

If you were simply to tell someone that the M62 connects Liverpool and Hull you’d forgive them for looking fairly confused. One of those places has a fairly well earned reputation as a windswept hell scape which is little more than a collection of Yate’s Wine Lodges and Costa Coffees*, the other is Hull. Why would you want to connect those two directly? Well there are other places in between that people apparently want to go to; so 107 miles of heaven was born into being. 

Fortunately, this tarmac river provides a way of getting away from Liverpool** and to the indisputably much better Manchester. It’s not a particularly majestic drive along that stretch but at least, if you’re heading East, you know you’re always going to end up somewhere better than where you started*. Past Manchester things start to get interesting, or at least less drab.

As a not particularly mountainous country it’s unusual for a motorway to go ‘up’ but up it will go (or down if you’re coming the other way; obvs). At it’s highest point you’ll be on the highest bit of motorway in England but please don’t get over excited by that fact as it also goes from 4 to 3 lanes quite quickly & you will piss off a worrying amount of lorry drivers if you cause a tailback. 

Fun fact. This is also where Saddleworth Moors are…so if you’re a fan of the 60’s or horrific murders of children gmp by then look left/right for an eyeful of history. Otherwise brace yourself for the mind bending mystery of an actually bloody farm in the middle of the chuffing carriageways. 

It’s a common misconception that this holdout farmer refused to budge as the future was built around him. Presumably this is because it’s all too easy to conjure up an image of a curmudgeonly, betweeded farmer type with unfeasible mutton chop sideburns and a faint smell of cow shit about him shaking his gammony fist whilst yelling ‘ger orf my laaand’ at a JCB. Makes a much better story that ‘There were issues with the ground in that area so the poor fucker got stuck there’; but that’s the real reason there’s a farm there so let’s all move on. 

Hold on to your hat for Hartshead Moor Service Station; consistently voted the worst in the entire country. It hasn’t got a Waitrose, despite the sign, though if you want a charger for a 2008 Nokia then you’re in the right place. Nearby attractions, listed on it’s website, include both Brighouse AND Huddersfield bus stations which in a county like Yorkshire, with little in the way of natural beauty, are surely not to be missed. 

After those heady heights you might find yourself tempted to turn off at Leeds to calm down. Don’t do this. Driving through Leeds is a similar experience to that poor bastard in greek myth who endlessly had to push a boulder up a hill*. There’s probably a word in German for when you’re watching your satnav’s estimated arrival time clock up 2 minutes for every 1 minute you’re sat in traffic (Krappenroaddenstucken/Roadworkenstillfuckenheren?) and it was almost certainly coined in Leeds whilst doing 4mph on a dual carriageway in the rain.

Nearly there. 

The only other destination of any merit on this highway of dreams is Hull (sorry Wakefield). Hull was once the UK Capital Culture, whatever that means, though so were Coventry & Bradford and they are both so resoundingly dreadful I suspect it’s an accolade not worth having. It’s a fairly under appreciated city none the less and in a county festooned with dreary & depressing towns in need of leveling up***** it’s a gem. 

Lastly a note on the road itself. Much like the rest of the infrastructure on this baffling little island, it’s falling to pieces. Hitting a pot hole at 80mph is not an experience I recommend and frankly it’s something that shouldn’t be happening. Presumably the solution is to privatise roads, as that’s worked so well for everything else, or we just have to hope that the current swivel eyed, born to rule fuckers are voted into oblivion in a few months time. 

And there you have it; an opinion piece on a motorway. It’s probably my favourite motorway. Maybe have a think about what your favourite motorway is, but keep it to yourself because it’s a weird thing to have thought about and don’t tell me because I am absolutely not interested in your opinion on motorways or, let’s be honest, anything else. 

*It is only fair to acknowledge that Liverpool also has several thousand Beatles themed shops and is at this point probably an almost entirely Beatles based economy. 

**Open to ideas on how to keep the scousers in. 

***Aside from Luton, everywhere is better than Liverpool & this particular motorway doesn’t go there.

****Don’t remember name and not ging to look it up. It’s the sort of thing that Boris Johnson would know off the top of his head and the fact that I don’t reminds me that he’s a fucking moron who should never be in charge of an ice cream let alone a country and impressing people by knowing which obscure Greek git had what tourtuous mythical punishment is not legitimate qualification for running a pissing country. 

*****Johnson again. Haystack haired shitweasel.