"Unborn roads weigh invisibly on the landscape like stories without endings
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For Ballard, the motorway flyover was a modern manifestation of the sublime, in the literal sense of the word…something that combined aesthetic awe with existential dread.
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Morrissey’s love of service stations is not so surprising. Like the out-of-season seaside resorts and rainy northern towns he also chronicles in his songs, they mine a rich seam of English ordinariess and gone-to-seed glamour.
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[Concrete] flyovers… have remained, as a stigmatic image embodying the delusions of that era."