A stranger knocks on your door, asking for directions from your home to the closest gas station (or café, or library. Your pick!). Instead of the fastest and shortest route, give him/her the one involving the most fun detours.
Before I start, I want to say that I’m learning that if I don’t get to the daily prompt as early as possible, readership dwindles rapidly. I can’t always do it at precisely 8 a.m., and every minute past that time loses me a reader or two. I really do try, and I also do my best to read all of the rest of you and to let you know I’ve been there. Some days are better than others, and today, sleep was better than getting up to write!
Anyway, maybe I’m still fogged with sleep, but I’m drawing a blank. Where I live, there are so many different ways to get to any destination that it can be very confusing to a newcomer. We have roads that were paved over old cowpaths, and one of them is called Cowpath Road. We have Blue School Road, Blue Church Road, Bethlehem Pike, Old Bethlehem Pike, Route 309, the 309 Bypass, Old 309. We have Mill Road, Mill Hill Road, Mill Creek Road, Mill Spring Road. And you will find these in every single township. We have Creamery Road, Forty-Foot Road, Short Road, and more Division Streets and County Roads than you can shake a stick at. Camp Road, Camp Creek Road, Deer Camp Road, Old Camp Road. Gold Mine Road. Roads named after people you’ve never heard of that turn out to be some Revolutionary War hero. Roads that parallel other roads of the same name. Covered Bridge Road, Bridge Road, Old Bridge Road. Church Road, Old Church Road. Schoolhouse Road, Old Schoolhouse Road, New Schoolhouse Road.
If you’re not confused yet, don’t worry, Come here and try to find a street address. Good luck. Sometimes there are mailboxes on the rural routes that have numbers on them. More often, not. The directions you get will be like this: “You drive about 3 miles to Three Mile Run Road until you come to a Y. Bear right, and count three houses down. Our place is the one with the big white stone on the lawn.”
Trouble is, almost every yard has big white stones on the lawn to warn people not to drive so fast around the curves and end up in someone’s living room.
Took me awhile to learn my way around out here. I’m pretty good at it now. Nothing runs in straight lines the way it did in Minnesota. Everything curves and twists and circles around until you don’t know whether you’re coming or going. That’s probably because the cows didn’t have the sense to make a straight path from the pasture to the barn.