Monday, April 2, 2012

B is for Backroads


And there is no better backroad in my mind than Butterville Road.

Once I got my driver’s license I found that driving the backroads was a way to relax, to reflect and to recharge. And once I discovered it, my car, as if acting on its own accord, steered its way to Butterville. Running parallel to the prominent mountain ridge that rims the western edge of my hometown the small, often overlooked road intersects two other roads that climb into the mountain itself.

Spotted with farm houses, rolling fields and meadows, copses of deciduous trees and herds of deer, Butterville became my favorite late night hangout spot during my senior year of high school. A few friends and I would park along the side of the road and sit looking up at the mountain ridge. We would gossip, dream and imagine our life as adults. We shared secrets and tears. We’d play the radio and sing along. Sometimes we’d take a few hesitant steps into the meadow only to run back to the car squealing with fears of the dark.

Once, a police officer pulled up behind us while we sat in the road next to the car talking. Terrified, we stood up as he got out and approached us. He asked what we were doing and in all honesty answered, “Nothing.” We had no drugs or alcohol and aside from loitering we weren’t doing anything wrong. Once we explained that we just liked to hang out and look at the stars and the mountain, he chuckled, shook his head and told us to “move along.”

Like a fifty’s style Lover’s Lane, I had my first real kiss there under a billion stars while deer scampered in the meadow. Once, a guy I met at work and really liked told me he “thought” he might be “in love with me.” Two days later he stopped taking my calls.

In a small town full of backroads it might be hard to pick a favorite one, but whenever I go back to my hometown, I make a point to drive along Butterville. I stop along the same stretch of the road and I stare up at the mountain that hasn’t changed in thousands of years. As the saying goes, you can never go home again, but sometimes, you can drive the backroads and remember with fond tears and laughter how much home means.

16 comments:

  1. What the hell!?! Here I was expecting a horror story, since that's how a lot of horror stories start, "on the backroads of a small country town, spotted with farmhouses, AN AXE MURDERER WITH A HOOK HAND EVISCERATED THE TEENS! AHHHH!" But here you are with this super sweet memory of innocence. In all seriousness, that was a nice story.

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    1. I suppose it could have gone done like that. There was a creepy old deserted farm with dilapidated barns that would have been a perfect hideout for a serial killer. I guess I was one of the lucky ones...probably because there was never any "funny" business going on. :)

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  2. I love this story! Is it true? I have my own "backroad" but it's just not the same driving on it with a mini van, whether it's empty or not. :-(

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    1. Thanks! And yup, it is a true story. Backroads are the best even if you are in a mini-van! :)

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  3. This post gave me the warm fuzzies! I love backroads. Especially if i'm on a bicycle. (Does that count?)

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    1. Absolutely counts! Unless you are biking on backroads in the middle of the night and then I might question your sanity. Just a little bit.

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  4. That was a great story. It reminded me of similar times of my own, and reminded me how easy it can be to just slow down. (I can be a bit hyperactive.)

    I had to laugh at Pickleope's comment because it was hilarious and because my mind was kind of going there, too, a little bit. But I blame that on the fact that I watch too much of the TV show..."I Survived"...

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    1. Thanks. I have to try to not watch things like "I survived" because they freak me out entirely too easily! And while I wasn't going for the "creep factor" looking at the title quickly does make the heart beat just a little bit harder!

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  5. I always liked driving the backroads, too. Although in the middle of the summer when the corn was 7ft high all I could think about was Children of the Corn. That freaked me out a little bit.

    Visiting via A-Z. =]

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    1. Corn fields are creepy regardless! We go to a corn maze every year and even though it is brood daylight out and the happy squeals of little kids fill the air, I am constantly looking over my shoulder afraid that SOMETHING is going to get me!!

      I think this is why I can't watch movies like Children of the Corn or Signs!

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  6. the backroads always have the best stories to go along with thm. Love your post!


    Happy A to Z
    baygirl32.blogspot.com

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  7. Great story! I get to travel backroads to some of my favorite places. I can't be daring and say, "Let's turn left here. That's east and we need to go east" because it sends me in to panic mode. I had a boyfriend who ALWAYS used to do that and I was on edge the entire time. Now that I have gps it's not so rough, but still.

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    1. When I started driving on my own I loved just turning down roads to see what was there. I still do it! I once got us lost in Massachusetts doing this but ended up finding the Yankee Candle Factory and a set of dinosaur tracks on the side of the road!

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  8. This is a wonderful post. I remember riding in my grandparents' car when I was a child along the back roads in Michigan. I used to lay behind the back seats so I was right up next to the rear window and stare at the stars. I guess no one was really concerned about seat belts back then. It's still a great memory, though.

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    1. That's a great memory too!

      My mom told me that back "in the day" she just held my siblings on her lap and threw us in drawers instead of a crib! Ahh the good old days! :)

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