2008

In Praise of Dirt Roads

In all my life, I never thought about living on a dirt road. I’ve always been more of an urban/suburban dweller, and if anyone had told me that at some point in my life, I’d be living in the country, I would have replied, “You’ve got the wrong gal.”

Well, here I am. Not only living in the country, but also living on a certified dirt road. Wait a minute. Did I just say that? Yep, I did.

In the two and a half years my family and I have lived here, I’ve actually learned a couple of things about dirt roads.

You can plant trees in the big potholes and then decorate them at Christmas time, giving off an air of peace and joy.
The Easter Bunny can hide in the potholes and watch the kids hunt Easter eggs and Easter baskets.
You no longer have the expense of washing your car because there’s no use trying to keep it clean.
You get the thrills of riding on a roller coaster, but you don’t have to wait in line.
There’s no salt and little sand on the road in winter, so the trees (that you planted in the potholes) stay healthy, thus enhancing the neighborhood. The ruts get so deep that you no longer have to steer your car. Just press the accelerator and your car stays in the run, automatically steering for you. This frees your hands up for more important things like balancing your checkbook, applying mascara, or other important things that need to be done during this hands free time.
In hot, dry weather, the dirt billows from the road when a vehicle passes by. It looks so much like a sand storm, you have the experience of a trip to the desert without the travel expense.
Also, in hot, dry weather, the windows facing the road get so dirty you don’t need drapes. This obviously saves you money.
You also never have to bother painting the house. It is always brown.
…And with the wet weather, your kids can go swimming in the potholes (thanks Debbie Barry, Randolph, VT)

Unfortunately, dirt roads are on the endangered items list. Far too many of them have been paved. The world will be too quiet when the sounds of stones pinging off the fenders of passing cars and trucks are silenced by pavement.

Dirt roads force people to slow down and remember when…

Where Did the Dalmatian Go?

Normally the Short Tract Firemen’s Annual Chicken BBQ is a mostly quiet event. Good food, cooked and served to the citizens of the community by their brave neighbors that choose to give of their time and energy to protect them is a social time to share some stories and a good meal. One of the Assistant Chiefs received a gift of a ceramic Dalmatian he thought would be a perfect mascot for the Fire Company. He brought it to the fire hall and the dog was immediately put on guard duty just inside the door. Some called him Flash while some thought the traditional name of Sparky suited him best. (He answers to either.)

This year’s dinner was marred by a selfishness act by someone that has not had a proper upbringing or is just plain evil. In the hustle and bustle of working on the dinner it was not discovered until clean up got underway that the new mascot was not at his post. A few minutes passed while things were checked to see if someone had moved our mascot to play a joke. This was not the case; someone did steal the dog. What type of person would steal something from the very folks whose mission is to risk their lives to save any of us? Second only to robbing the collection plate in church, stealing from the Fire Company is a truly dastardly act.

All we ask is, if you took the mascot, please bring it back unharmed to the fire hall. No questions will be asked.

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