The back road I live on is like a large family -- a family where everyone hates one another. Do you know the scene in "Footloose" where it's revealed that no one in the town can opt to dance -- because the old meanies have legally banned dancing? I have one of those meanies in my life. She is a dinosaur, and she writes to the back road to complain that our road-maintenance funds are misused as "a party war-chest." Too many parties! No one responds to this puzzling screed, so then the screed gets reissued, and no one responds, and all of this occurs once again. I don't know where these parties are happening; if they're happening, I'm not invited. Another source of tension is the "put-up-a-sign" camp. We have a group of Pollyannas who believe that any big problem can meet its match through a well-placed sign. "Don't Speed." "Don't Drive Over Leo's Garden." "Don't Visit Here If You're a Large Truc...