Day 516, Crossing the river Styx

There are perhaps many ways to cross the river Styx in your journey to the underworld.

Let's look at the one chosen by my old friend J Nobsworth-Wheelmangler.

J-Nob, as we knew Nobsworth, was descended from a line of farriers.  A very long line of farriers that mainly lead to the job centre, given that there isn't quite the requirement for their  equine services as once there was.

One of the things that had a large impact on their family history was the invention of the wheel.  The verbal history, handed down from ear to ear by each generation, tells of the first sighting of the round objects.  J-Nob said, in a telling from a very early memory, "we could see that was the beginning of the end..."

And so it came to pass that almost three thousand five hundred years later the need for horse transportation had diminished to such a tiny extent that the family Nobsworth outnumbered the requirement for practitioners of their historic trade.  There was a brief burst of resistance around the time of the second world war but this was futile, only leading to the addition of the latter part of their hyphenated family name.

J-Nob wasn't slow to accept that there was little that could be done, and the decision was made that there was no point in carrying on.  In fact there was no point in carrying on full stop.  A trip to the underworld was chosen as the only sensible resolution, a trip that would have to be taken using the family nemesis, the wheel.

J-Nob had never learned to drive or ride a bicycle.  This left little by way of transport choice.  The only option open was that of skateboard, there being such a low entry level of cost and skill associated with such methods of mobility.

A suitable map was procured and a date set.

Now you might consider that crossing a river by wheeled vehicle may prove difficult.  Normally this would be correct, however the river Styx has also had to adapt a changing world (pleasure cruises, water speed records, pedalo) and now there is another method of crossing available.  While this method is not exactly bridge-like, it is sort of bridge-like being a collection of sewerage pipes which have been built above water level.

J-Nob would have to enter the pipes to make the crossing, there being a smooth surface internally rather than the ridged outer surface.  J-Nob made a final speech of regret and loss, and handed over the last unspoken fragment of verbal history to the assembled crowd of well-wisher.  "Shoe or shoo, we never knew, but now it matters no longer.  I must enter the pipe.  Farewell."

And that was the last we saw of J-Nobsworth-Wheelmangler.  Although on a winter night, when the wind blows at the right angle across the pipes and their peculiar resonance reverberates down the valley, it is thought that there is the sound of hammer against nail, the faint sound hoof shavings landing, and a quiet whinnying resembling that of someone shouting "WHEELS, YOU BLOODY WHEELS, THE SKATEBOARD WHEELS WON"T STAY ON." 

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