The road less surfaced

Three days ago some huge roadwork vehicles arrived in a street around the corner, you know the kind I mean, diggers and steamrollers, etc. I had been expecting them because a week before signs had been posted in the neighbourhood stating that some road surfacing was due to take place.

Two days ago the road had been completely torn up, signs regarding uneven surfaces and ramps gave drivers fair warning what to expect.

Yesterday a lovely new road, smooth as a baby's bum, had been laid and painted and there was no sign of the industrial vehicles anywhere. That was quick, I was expecting it to take at least a week for them to finish. I shall find an excuse to take my bike for a spin, I thought, and waited patiently for an opportunity to present itself.
 

Today I needed to pop to the shop for some basics (tobacco and Coke) and seized upon the chance to ride the new road. With a smile upon my face and a helmet on my head I rode my bike up an adjoining alley to where the fresh surface awaited. Here we go and here I come.

I was not disappointed. A sigh actually escaped between my lips. Bliss. Heaven. Everything every road should be (I would be happy to pay some form of road tax if this was the standard of London's Roads). It was a pleasure almost beyond measure. Almost, because as I took a bend in the road I noticed that the eutopian surface suddenly ended a short distance ahead of me!

What?
What's going on here? How can this be? Where is the rest of the loveliness? The road workers had only resurfaced a third of the actual road! No wonder they were finished so quickly.