The RT does a fair amount of traveling, mostly by air, but if it’s under a six-hour drive (my air-to-car travel threshold), I’ll generally drive. I thoroughly enjoy the solitude of time alone behind the wheel. I can zone out to my favorite tunes and reflect on whatever is on my mind.
There are certain times of year driving is most enjoyable for me. While driving during the summer can be miserable (splattered bugs and all), I truly enjoy it during the Fall. The changing of the leaves, the color in the evening sky and the crystal clear nights really lift my spirits.
Not that long ago was one of those beautiful Fall days and I spent six hours on the road enjoying it. My drive carried me from Central Arkansas up to St. Louis, up US Highway 67, the original route from Dallas to St. Louis.
Most of the highway has been replaced with near-Interstate quality roadway, but in some sections it still follows the “old” Highway 67 I knew as a kid, when we traveled it between Texarkana and Dallas.
Interstate 30 was in various stages of construction at that time, so you drove on it for a while, then got back on the old highway, then back on I-30, etc. In fact, my sisters and I played in the East Texas red clay at the Interstate exchange that was being built through the woods behind our neighborhood back then.
As we would drive US 67 in those days, my Mother would point out various historical or nostalgic sights along the way. And old bridge here, and old motor court there.
My Mother was quite the student of history, both of the textbook kind and the “I remember” kind. While the former is important in one’s overall education, the latter is just as important as far as legacy is concerned.
My Mom always made sure to point out important things along life’s road. One of the things I remember is her pointing out where the “old” highway was. That highway predated US 67 and was the highway she traveled as a girl.
On this particular day, I spotted that old highway off in the brush to the side of the section of the “old” Highway 67 I happened to be traveling (you can see it in the foreground of the photo, on the right). That “old”, “old” highway is probably 75+ years old by now. I never would have noticed it had my Mom not pointed it out when I was a kid.
There are no words to express how thankful I am to have been privileged to have a Mother who taught me to value what came before me. There’s a lot to see if you just look.
Maybe it’s not as poetic as stopping to smell the roses, but in its own way, stopping to take in the “old”, “old” highway is just as sweet.
Ruminations of a Misplaced Texan 
I forgot how much I enjoy reading the RT’s ramblings.
And if I might say so, I love your comment about the blessing of being taught the value of what came before you. Something that I try to remember to appreciate, as well.