So you’ve decided to move to the country where the road less
traveled loses its philosophical meaning and leans more towards reality…the
reality of whether you can make it to the end of that less traveled road with
your car intact.
Wandering down one of our many meandering country lanes, one
will undoubtedly have the wonderful opportunity of viewing our local flora and
fauna; a hawk here, a deer there, wildflowers here, sprigs of glossy red rash
causing poison oak there. Throw in a rusty windmill and forgotten foundations
of long forgotten homesteads and the picture everyone has painted in their mind
of the proverbial country road is complete.
The one aspect of the country road that is overlooked and
sometimes forgotten is the condition of said road. If one wishes to keep ones
teeth unchipped and their muffler still attached to their auto they may wish to
consult the locals before venturing too far out the ‘back roads.’ There becomes
an even greater danger to those that seek the thrill of the wind in their hair
and the open road stretching before them. I’m speaking of motorcyclists. Though
our roads call to them…so do the bees and the potholes big enough to bury a
Volkswagon bug.
So I start my journey, the one that on the map looks like a
short cut, with anticipation and the thrill that I may be discovering a new way
to my final destination. The fact that the road on the map that now proudly
displays the name of our town looks brown and winding means nothing to me,
after all a road is a road right? Ha!
I digress, so I began my journey, car intact, coffee cup
full, teeth brushed and chip free. I am lulled into a false sense of security
at the onset of the adventure by the gentle banking turns and small rolling
knolls dotted with happily grazing livestock. However, those quickly give way
to hairpin turns and gut wrenching drop offs. With lanes too narrow to turn
round and head back to civilization and cliffs sheer enough to drop from sight
never to be found again, I have no choice but to travel forward. After a bone
jarring, brain rattling forty minutes of ‘country back road’ traveling, I reach
my final destination…ball joints loose, coffee saturated floorboards, and
sporting a chipped tooth. Not to mention the bugs on my previously clean
windshield resembling the remnants of small pterodactyls and my grill covered
in a yellow slime formerly one must assume, a rare type of insect full of life
giving yellow goo yet to be discovered.
With my perilous journey complete and my coffee cup refilled
I head back home…. on the same road. Life is exciting in the country.
Until next time… welcome to the country.
