I've stood at both ends of Route 66. Travelers once followed this 2,400-mile path before superhighways 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 during my commute. I discovered this small home in desperate need of siding. A fearless football team crashing 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 may be next.
After a hurried departure from work, I realized I couldn't find my phone and began searching through my bag while driving. I pulled onto the gravel shoulder to stop — a big mistake. It was winter, and my tires sank. I was stuck in the snow as darkness set in. My SOS request in the AAA app wouldn't bring help for an hour. Two passersby stopped to offer assistance. A third driver, in a rusty red truck and carrying chains, was able 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 insights 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.
Copy Edited by Eryn Lent
