Down an old dirt road in Summer
Late last summer I crisscrossed Carroll County from historic point to historic point, always trying to take the shortest drive between those points. On the map the little black line denoted as W 500 S line looked like a fine road to get me from point A to B. In reality, once the black-top gave out and the gravel road grew consecutively narrow with each crossroads I passed, I began to wonder if this was less road than private drive. And long after I passed the last road-worthy vehicle, several young guys went past me driving a four-wheel Gator, or Mule...not sure of the make, or animal in this case. They slowed, wondered if I was lost, smiled and gave me a wave as if to say "don't worry, we'll be back this way to pull you out of whatever trouble is waiting ahead."
|Wildcat Creek off West 500 South, Carroll County|
What I wouldn't give to take a slow drive down an old gravel road today. To have the windows down, the sound of locusts coming like waves over the bean field, to hear the loud call of a crow. To pull off the side of the road, lean against the car while gazing downstream of a slow moving river. To feel the warmth of the sun on your face, a slight breeze that rustles the leaves in the trees. We Hoosiers are blessed by all four seasons, each in their full glory of heat and rain and snow and cold. But we never tire of complaining about the weather, though the truth of the matter is if we didn't love it, we would have left a long time ago.