Review: A Big Rock Down the Street
An investigation into the mysterious origins of a large rock sitting in the middle of a neighborhood street. When no answers are forthcoming, the only reasonable thing to do is write a formal review of it, including tasting notes.
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My neighborhood is full of trees and creatures and children aggressively racing around on ebikes, but to me one of the most fascinating pieces of local decoration is a big rock. It’s about a six-minute walk from where I am right now and it’s plopped in the middle of the street just off the intersection with the main road as if to say “hey, welcome to the street with the big rock on it.”
I did a bit of investigating to try and figure out where this monolith came from, but alas, am no closer to the truth. A couple of months ago, I posted in a neighborhood Facebook group to see if anyone was aware of the origins, but aside from 14 baffling “like” reactions, there was only one comment that didn’t offer up much information. Shortly after, I emailed the office that runs our community to see if anyone had been around long enough to know or had maybe heard tales passed down from one employee to the next, but never got a response. This means, of course, that either the reason for its presence is unremarkable or unspeakably sinister. I was to be allowed no information, it would seem.
One thing I did learn is that if you stop your car in the middle of the street to take a picture of a big rock that exists for mysterious reasons, neighbors who live near it will look at you like you’re a crazy person and maybe initially think you’re taking pictures of them sitting on their porch. Or perhaps they are Mystical Templars of the Mystical Boulder and immediately after I left they went and notified the others through some arcane combination of cellular technology and blood magic. It’s likely the former, though, considering an HOA that won’t allow anyone to put up fences or have any evidence of trash cans without a fine and a tutting probably has a provision against blood magic.
Just because I can never know the enigmatic beginnings of this road boulder doesn’t mean I can’t explore what it has become and is now. Bringing old technology (large rock, Templars, blood magic, etc.) in line with new technology (computer, internet, blood magic phone app, etc.), I will write a review of the stone to share with the world that will act as an official record to be passed down for generations. And maybe I’ll share it with the front office so they have something to point to instead of ignoring a resident’s genuine and important question about a big rock.
That being said, there’s really no standard format for reviewing a rock that isn’t closely guarded by geologists. Most thorough reviews of geographic formations are locked behind paywalls that I assume are made of some kind of schist or marble. With that in mind, I went online in search of a review format I could use to build the structure of a thorough review of The Big Rock and will be using it henceforth.
Atmosphere
The Big Rock is in the middle of the road, so visiting it comes with a little bit of excitement and danger. Sometimes people drive around the corner at as much as 3 miles per hour, so the heart races as you step gently to the side to avoid being slowly nudged. I find this to be a positive, as any good rock experience should come with a side of death-defying. Millions of people watched a movie about James Franco getting his arm trapped under a boulder, but it probably would have been less successful if James Franco had just sort of glanced at the boulder from a distance.
For years, The Big Rock was regularly decorated for holidays with a little froggy sitting on top in a variety of tasteful costumes. A colorful Santa outfit around Christmas, patriotic accoutrements for Independence Day, cassette ribbons for National VCR Day, things like that. The community member who did these decorations has moved on from the area and, despite having handed off the frog statue to a different neighbor, it has yet to make an appearance since then. I assume this has to do with the HOA’s very strict rules about decorations on the rock and graciously allowing the frog to be present and bring joy for 30–45 minutes a year.
A very humble grassy median containing The Big Rock splits the road in two for about 30 feet before it rejoins again. This size is an estimate because I’m scared to bring out any sort of measuring equipment in front of the Templars who may think I’m getting closer to discovering the dread secrets of their important rock. Perhaps the size of the median corresponds to some cryptic golden ratio information that could unlock their secrets and unravel everything we know about the world. Also I don’t want to get looked at funny or get softly bumped by a car.
The grass is routinely kept neatly trimmed and, after the shock of almost hitting a big rock while turning a corner, it’s a pleasant sight to behold. Atmosphere rating: 4 out of 5 pebbles.
Provenance
As previously discussed, I’m not quite sure where The Big Rock came from or what its purpose is. As I am not a rocktor (a rock doctor), I have no background in specific types of geology. According to my 5th grade earth science class, there are three main types of rocks: igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic.
Sedimentary rocks are formed by layers and layers of sediment piling up and solidifying over time. Sediment in this case is dirt and ash and ancient spilled milkshakes, among other things. One of the coolest features of sedimentary rocks is that they’re where we find fossils and all kinds of evidence of the past: bones, animal impressions, old Pokémon cards, things like that. Because The Big Rock has no femurs or skulls poking out of it, I’m removing sedimentary from consideration.
Metamorphic rocks are other rocks that get heated up or squished by other rocks and pressures and intense geological circumstances. Generally in this type of formation, there’s some banding or folding or mashing that’s visible. I see nothing of that type in The Big Rock, so let’s cross metamorphic off the list.
This leaves igneous, which is formed by hot liquid rock known as “magma” or “microwaved soup” cooling over time either deep in the earth or gloriously spurted out by volcanoes. One of the most fascinating types of igneous rock is basalt, which cools and cracks in huge hexagonal pillars that look like stacks of weird alien money. A famous example of basalt is Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland, which has over 40,000 interlocking columns formed over 40 million years ago. I’ve actually been to Giant’s Causeway and let me tell you that it is very impressive and strange. It also requires a lot of walking and climbing of steep stairs for what feels like 40 million years, so I recommend bringing along a bottle of water and legs that aren’t mine.
But while the magma-in-the-earth kind of igneous rocks are less exciting than the spurted kind, they are just as reliable in terms of identification. And I believe this is the category in which we find The Big Rock. Likely granite or gneiss (pronounced guh-nipe-a-norp), The Big Rock is a solid piece with a few shiny flecks throughout featuring no evidence of smooshing or triceratops faces. At some point, some magma got real hot and then real cool and then we have The Big Rock.
Why is it on a median in the street? We may never know. Provenance rating: 2 out of 5 pebbles.
Texture/Mouthfeel
If I’m not going to get out of my car to measure The Big Rock, I’m certainly not going to get out of my car in order to lick it or put parts of it in my mouth. That would be ridiculous. I collected several similar rocks from around my house instead.
The initial taste is what I can only describe as “mineral-y.” Like imagine you’ve taken a big swig of mineral water, but instead of being wet it’s very dry and scrapes your tongue a little bit. It’s not altogether unpleasant, but certainly not something I’ll likely try again any time soon. Throughout the experiment, I also hoped that any non-mineral flavor I was tasting was not raccoon urine.
First licks were kind of nice, but with an entire rock in my mouth, I’d describe the mouthfeel as unpleasant. It gritted against my teeth and weighed heavily against my tongue. Because I’d chosen an overly large rock at first that required a certain amount of cramming and tooth gritting to get in, the process of getting it back out was difficult and terrifying. Texture/mouthfeel rating: 0 out of 5 pebbles.
Finish
The Big Rock is gray and brown and a little orange-ish when the sun is out. There are also splotches of green and white lichen on it that give it a few pops of color. Overall, though, the look is a bit drab and not very exciting. There’s a lot of texture and cracked parts, giving it a sort of shabby chic vibe, but it’s not enough to elevate it to actual chic. If I’d not almost driven into it every time I turned off the main road, I’d likely never have noticed it at all.
My recommendation for future small boulder decorations would be to include some nice crystals or a trilobite fossil or, at the very least, a small frog on top wearing a leprechaun outfit. Finish rating: 3 out of 5 pebbles.
Pairings
Rocks go well with grass and trees and rain, so The Big Rock is already in the right pairing for its nature. Typically in nature, granite is found deep in the earth or as part of a countertop, so it’s hard to exactly nail down what goes well with a big lump of it in the road. But I think in this case it has been neatly appointed. Pairings rating: 4 out of 5 pebbles.
Value
Finding the exact value of a mid-street granite boulder is difficult without knowing the weight and full condition. Various sources on the internet have told me that this particular rock likely weighs between 200 and 48,000 pounds, meaning that the “street value” of this piece could range from a couple hundred bucks to several thousand. For this type of estimation, I would usually turn to my regular fence, Dale “Diamond” Diamante, but we’re not on speaking terms at the moment.
Can value, however, be limited to what someone would pay to chop it up into durable floor tiles? Taking into account its beautification effect on the neighborhood, its long standing as a feature of the street, and its usefulness as a landmark, the answer is yes. It’s all about how much it’s worth for chopping up. Value rating: between 1 and 48,000 out of 5 pebbles.
Rating
Because the pebble scale got completely out of control there, it’s now impossible to come up with an overall rating. So let’s just say that The Big Rock is nice. While it’s not as magical as a tall tree or as enchanting as a field of fireflies or as calming as a running stream, it’s not a detriment to anything other than my front bumper when I forget it’s there. It sits there serving some unknown purpose and adding a little bit of variety to the surrounding streets that are all just, you know, straight lines. Like streets do.
The Big Rock, in the end, is what it purports to be: a big rock. And you have to respect it for staying in its lane (or, more specifically, between two lanes). There are many things in this world that feel like they need to not only serve a purpose, but multiple purposes. Combination toaster and coffee maker? Too much. Printer/scanner/copier/fax machine? Calm down. A big rock that is just a big rock? Perfection.
I think we could all learn something from The Big Rock. While we’re out there in the world trying to be all things for all people, it’s important to remember that having a singular purpose is okay. In fact, make that a goal for yourself. Take some time to sit in the street and just be. I’m sure you’ll be fine.
