Driving The Back Roads

The back roads here are really something. They are not flat and straight like the roads in Florida; rather, they go up and down and turn left and right, often all at the same time. This is not the place for you if you get car sick or have trouble with roller coasters or state fair rides. They don’t need to warn you about the dangers of texting while driving in this county. It would be suicidal to try it on the back roads. Besides, it’s impossible to text and drive with both hands gripping the steering wheel in terror.

Around here, when they put up a sign that says “Dangerous Curve”, they really mean it. I went around one curve the other day and almost ran into myself. I don’t know who decides whether a curve merits a “Dangerous Curve” sign and I don’t know what the criteria are, but the standard must be high. I think the county road department has to be convinced that death is almost certain if a driver doesn’t slow down before it will put up a warning sign. That means that curves that will only cripple and maim you are routine and unmarked. Comforting thought.

Not only are the back roads meandering, but most of them are so narrow that two cars can barely pass. Some are even narrower than that; they are basically paved wagon paths. Most of the back roads do not have a line down the center to distinguish your lane from the oncoming lane. I think that’s because there is no distinction. It’s first-come, first-serve around here. They say that possession is nine-tenths of the law; the same is true of the country roads in this area.

Most of the back roads have ditches and steep drop-offs on both sides. People up here favor large pickup trucks, often with dual rear wheels. It’s a butt-puckering experience when you encounter one of those road hogs coming the other way on a narrow country lane. I had to use a crowbar to pry my ass cheeks apart after one recent drive. I’m thinking of adding a change of underwear to my vehicle emergency kit.

Even when the lanes are marked, people here have a disconcerting habit of cutting the corners. You haven’t lived until you’ve almost died when a utility truck comes around a corner on your side of the road. My theory is that the number of close near death experiences on the back roads accounts for the number of churches in this area. There is a small Baptist church every mile or so around here. I bet every one of them has a person on his knees thanking the Lord for allowing him to survive a trip to get a loaf of bread. A good name for a local Catholic church would be Our Lady of the Close Call. They say there are no atheists in foxholes; I suspect there are few atheists on Fannin County back roads.

Because the back roads are the only way to get to most properties it is not uncommon to see large service and delivery trucks and even larger tractor-trailers hauling logs on them. One of them could snuff out my little truck in a heartbeat. If that should ever happen, my hope is that I’m taken out by a truck hauling Moon Pies or RC Cola. I’d hate to have my obituary read that I was crushed by a septic tank pumper (“You Dump, We Pump”). My friends, who lack any degree of sensitivity, would have a field day with the jokes.

The scenery is a distraction. Most everywhere you look around here is a scene that could go on a post card or a cheesy calendar. The problem is that you don’t dare to take your eyes off the road to take in the view. They should add a feature to car GPS systems that describes what you would see if you are courageous enough to look. It would say something like, “Off to the right, if you are foolish enough to look and do not mind ending up in a ditch, is a quaint babbling brook.” Better yet, it could say, “You are passing a classic Appalachian barn on your left. Based on your speed, I estimate that you have a forty percent chance of surviving if you want to take a peek.”

Another complication is the wildlife. You never know when you’re going to encounter an animal on a back road. If you follow this blog, you know about the squirrels. There are other critters as well, including deer, possum, raccoons, dogs, and cats. The squirrels are the most prevalent and the worst. They are either fearless, stupid or possessed. I saw one leisurely crossing a busy four lane divided highway the other day. Several people have told us that when you come up on a squirrel in the road you can speed up or slow down, but you should never swerve. I can’t figure out whether this advice is to prevent you from going into a ditch or to keep the squirrel from getting confused.

Driving around here at night can creep you out. There is nothing lonelier than a back country road at night. It brings out your primal fears of the night time. There are no street lights, and there is little traffic. Your headlights eerily illuminate the trees and bushes on the side of the road as the road twists and turns. You start to wonder what lurks at the edge of the light. Every urban myth comes to mind, especially the one about the high school couple necking in a car on a rural road who encountered an escaped madman with a hook on one arm. I’ve made it a rule never to stop on a back road and make out with a high school girl.

I’m always on the lookout for a pair of eyes staring back at me from the edge of the road or a deer jumping in front of me when I drive at night. And in the back of my mind there is the “I know it doesn’t exist, but please don’t scare the shit out of me” chance of encountering the large, hairy shape of a Bigfoot crossing the road. I’m not even going to talk about the possibility of being abducted by a UFO and being probed by aliens. That stuff never happens in the city. It’s always in a rural area on a back road. It takes some cojones to drive at night on the back roads around here.

I drove on country roads in Pennsylvania and Kentucky as a young man so I’m used to them. Meredith has lived all her life in Florida and is only familiar with flat and straight roads. She’s not exactly an adventurous driver under the best of circumstances, but get her on a back road, and she turns into Ma Kettle. I never noticed how cautiously she drove in Florida because it is impossible to go anywhere fast in Pinellas County.

To be honest, it drives me nuts to drive with her on a country road. A couple of weeks ago she drove as we explored some of the back roads. At first I thought she was joking with me. Then I thought she was trying to piss me off on purpose. We were being passed by wooly caterpillars and crippled squirrels. The fall foliage changed in the course of that drive. I’m fairly certain that wagon trains and cattle drives moved at a faster pace. I kept my mouth shut which shows that I learned something in my thirty plus years of marriage. Now I bring something to read whenever she drives the back roads. I read three chapters of Moby Dick between here and Blue Ridge the other day. I dread driving with her when the roads to get icy in a winter storm. I’m going to bring a change of clothes and a book of crossword puzzles. I may be able to learn another language before we arrive at our destination.

I shouldn’t complain. Instead of boring drives to the store, I get heart-pounding road adventures every time I go somewhere. It adds a little zest to your life. Driving the back roads is one more thing that makes living here a different experience.