Des, those little old highways are so much more interesting than the speedy Interstates, where often all you see is a long stretch of trees, safely fenced off from the occupants of all those moving vehicles. You could see a farm wife tending the garden, while the farmer was operating some interesting machine out in the field, and hear the cows bawling to be milked; in the towns, you had to stop for a traffic light at practically every corner, and you could see people coming out of the stores with all kinds of things, and sometimes you could see right into their houses. Lonely schools out in the middle of nowhere--probably the only one in the county--and maybe a class would be outside playing kickball. All those neon signs! Diners--coffee 10 cents, free refill. Old men in overalls, on benches around the courthouse yard. On the way to Tennessee, we'd always stop at the Wigwam motel, a
concrete tepee that delighted my childish eyes. The heavy
waitress, Myrtle, knew just how I liked my cheeseburger and
chocolate milkshake. Thank you for this trip down memory
"lane".
