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Sixty days on the road.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

The Road Less Traveled


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Route 66, stretching from Los Angeles to Chicago has become a destination in itself.  After the war when gas was cheap and people had cars and money, they hit the road—looking for a new life, or just to get away from it all.









Interstate highways have replaced Route 66 as the way to get places.  But the old road, where it still exists, has gathered a certain fame and a personality—for its history, its former utility and fun.  The road is a trip where people still get their kicks on Route 66.  









East of Winslow, Arizona, old 66, the Mother Road, is gone, replaced with I-40.  I could have ridden the shoulder of that fast superhighway, but decided on a lonely route instead. 
About five miles south of I-40, and parallel to it, is a gravel road passing through the Hopi Reservation, called Territorial Road.  It’s twenty miles of slow going, not even a house within sight along it.  







After about ten miles, I came to a hilltop, and looking down, saw a bridge with people on it.  I coasted down to them and leaned the bike up against the bridge railing.  A deep gorge underneath me and these Hopi people was flowing water.










A little boy said, “Look, there’s a squirrel.”  And surely there was.
“ First life I’ve seen on this road besides bushes,” I said.   










His mother came over and asked where I’d come from and where I was going.  I gave her the two points, briefly as I always do.  And she said, as they always say, that it’s a long way, how do I do it?  I gave her my stock, understated answer, and she said, “Why?”







“Because I get antsy at home.”
“Do you ever get lonely?” she said. 
I couldn’t find an answer, so I just shrugged.  I thought about a real answer as the long road passed under me.  Yes I get lonely.  I’m a social being, as we all are.  But I’m less social than most.  I get along with a small part of humanity.  I feel guilty about it sometimes, but can’t seem to change it.





You can see my progress on an interactive map, prepared by Michael Angerman, at:
Zoom and scroll to see where I’ve been.



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6 comments:

  1. on the clay road
    to nowhere
    a bridge
    to the Hopi
    above the blue gorge

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    1. On a sandy road, just a long straight path to the other side really, a bridge to hope of some country folk who get it, who get me, who understand and tell me who I am. All this above a deep gorge in a dry desert, flowing with living water.

      Thanks Lois

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  2. What a great adventure! Is that the Little Colorado River that carved the gorge? And are those beautiful sandstone cliffs and rocks?

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    Replies
    1. Chevelon Creek, crossing Territorial Road, southeast of Winslow. It’s on the Colorado Plateau with sandstone of various colors.

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  3. First life I’ve seen on this road besides bushes,” I said

    "Yes I get lonely. I’m a social being, as we all are.
    But I’m less social than most.
    I get along with a small part of humanity...

    a bridge to hope
    of some country folk who get it,
    who get me,
    who understand
    and tell me who I am.

    I feel guilty about it sometimes,
    but can’t seem to change it."


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Junnie, you have taken my words and some of your won and made them into a poem. Thanks

      Delete