A Road Not Taken
By Jim Hunt for the News and Journal
The Interstate Highway system is one of the remarkable achievements in the United
States and we take for granted the four-lane marvels that go from North to South and
East to West. It has fueled trillions of dollars in economic impact to cities and towns
across the country along with making travel safer and more convenient to the masses. If
you are over 60 years of age, you probably remember the construction of the interstates
and how it seemed that they would never be finished. You may also remember the
twisty roads that we traveled, before air conditioning was widely available and how
those hot summer rides were misery.
My son and I recently drove to Charlottesville, Virginia to pick up a truck that I had
purchased over the internet. When we entered the destination into the GPS, it routed us
through Elkins and onto Route 33 where we passed the Bowden fish hatchery and the
beautiful Seneca Rocks that is one of the prettiest spots in West Virginia. The weather
was perfect for a drive, and we passed farmland with cows and chickens and little
diners and antique shops. The occasional deer were eating grass along the highway
and a squirrel would dart across the road in front of us, often stopping in the middle of
the road to decide which was the better way to go.
There were no tractor trailers traversing the curvy roads and only a few log trucks
making their way to the sawmills. As you reached the top of the mountains, you could
see for miles, and it was so green that it looked like carpet stretched over the
mountains. The homes were quite diverse with some large, historic homes that were
several hundred years old to modern places with large decks to observe the views.
Some homes were small and modest with an accumulation of old cars, tractors and
appliances strewn around the yard. You had a sense that in years past, there were
many more people that lived off the land almost disconnected from society.
With no cellphone signal, my son and I had an uninterrupted time to talk about stories of
growing up and how much he wanted to spend more time in the mountains, fishing and
hunting. Life seems different in the mountains and the lack of fast-food restaurants and
truck stops every ten miles; makes you think about what really matters in life. We
laughed when we realized that without a cell signal, a flat tire or dead battery meant you
would need to depend on the kindness of strangers to get you out of a jam.
There were no large cities on our route and the little towns we passed, had barely a
couple dozen houses and a post office and a Dollar General store. The history of the
area was sometimes noted on the metal historical signs that described a Civil War battle
or some notable settler to the area. As you passed some of the towns, an old gentleman
with a white beard would look up from his chair and nod as you made eye contact. It
seemed to be something he did every day as he watched the time go by.
The interstate highways have changed the way we live, and it would be hard to go back
to the days without them, but there is something to be said about the “old” way of travel
and the conversations we miss as we are buried in our smartphones and GPS devices.
I was thankful for this day and the experience of sharing stories with my son and seeing
the beauty of our country.