I’ve stood at both ends of Route 66. Travelers followed this 2,400-mile path before super-highways increased travel speed. But sometimes it’s not about speed. It’s about discovery, which is why I choose to drive the backroads.
The Pearl Street House captured my attention on my commute. I discovered this tiny house in desperate need of siding. A fearless football team crushing through a homecoming banner could easily tear down these walls. And what about the heating bills? Surely I could donate my lottery winnings for new siding—if only I played the lottery. Soon the home was sold and re-sided. My curiosity continues. Knocking on the door is next!
Desperate to find my phone after a hasty work departure, I dug through my bag while driving. I pulled onto the gravel shoulder to stop. Big mistake! It was winter and my tires sank. I was stuck in snow. Darkness loomed. My SOS in the triple-A app wouldn’t result in a rescue for an hour. Two passersby offered help. A third person driving a rusty red truck and carrying chains had the power to pull me out. Lesson learned. Avoid snowy roadside stops!
Observing a solar eclipse. Surveying a sunflower field. Examining barns that still stand despite roofs in disrepair. My backroads journeys open my eyes to insight well beyond my profession.
Robert Frost got it right. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
I’m Anissa Kuhar and that’s my Perspective.
