Dirt Road Memories

Dirt roads will always hold a special place in my heart and mind, in this day where everything is paved; there is something soothing about just sitting back and reflecting on my own dirt road memories. The earliest recollection I have is that old red dirt road that split my grandfathers’ farm in half. Even now if I will close my eyes, I can still taste the dust, as cars would fly by on those hot summer afternoons. Ironically, I remember just the opposite, as my uncles would prepare to go on a date. With the car washed and waxed to perfection, they would slowly make their way down that old road, creeping ever so slowly so as not to stir up dust, and hoping one of the locals would not drive by and create a dust cloud.

Then there would have to be those old roads cut across the fields and hollars on the farms that we used to roam. Each one was unique and many were too washed out to take a car down, but a tractor or a large farm truck never strained as we made our way to a pond to fish, or a field to cut greens. How many times have I pedaled my bicycle as fast as I could down these old trails, never giving a thought at what would happen if a tire slipped into one of the ruts that would seemingly pop up overnight after a large rain?

Many times, I remember traveling down an old dirt road on our way to a field to work that day. If you happened to be riding in the back of the truck, you had better be paying attention, because you never knew just when a tree branch might slap you as we passed. Many times, it seemed that these fields were on the other side of a creek, and there are not any bridges out in the woods. However, it never mattered, I remember the sound, as they would shift those trucks into a lower gear and across the stream we went without any problem.

The older I became there seemed to be fewer dirt roads, but the fascination never stopped. Any opportunity I had to test my skills on one I seized. To those, who have been blessed enough to drive on a dirt road after a light rain, you know there is no experience quite like it. Georgia clay gets very slick when wet, the slightest move of the wheel will cause a rear-wheel drive vehicle to fishtail, and I am here to tell you I never missed an opportunity to get a vehicle sliding sideways down one of those old roads.

Today most of the dirt roads are only a memory, occasionally as we take our annual vacation to Florida, I will see a long dirt road, going somewhere unknown to me, along the highways in South Georgia. With just that quick glimpse my mind begins to wander and reflect upon days spent walking down dirt roads to our favorite fishing hole, I still remember how cool the hard clay felt against my bare feet.

If I close my eyes, I can still hear the leaves rustle as the cool air blowing across the creek would find its way to the road as we walked. In the distance, I can hear an owl alerting the entire forest that we were there. Up above I hear the distinct sound of the jar flies somewhere high in the trees. Suddenly a rabbit runs across the road and I look to see where he has gone, and just as quickly, I realize those days seem just as far away as that rabbit.

Perhaps not, maybe the next dirt road I see I will pull the car off to the side, get out and take my shoes off, then see just how many of those old dirt road memories I can recall. Who wants to join me, or better yet, who will take the hand of a child or grandchild and share with them the experiences, that can only be found down some old dirt road?