When we moved to Searcy, we knew we wanted to build a new home, so we rented a house on the edge of town and started our search for the perfect place to build. Because I’d had a lifetime of having to drive at least thirty minutes in any direction just to reach a Walmart or pick up a pizza, I wanted civilization. I began exploring the subdivisions, the cul-de-sacs, the shady lots on the corner of city streets, places with sidewalks and next-door-neighbors. My husband, on the other hand, was out exploring the hinterlands of White County in his quest for wide open spaces. Thus began our tug of war.
We’d spend our weekends riding and looking. Every town lot he declared “too small” and “too close” to the surrounding houses. Every section of country acreage I pronounced way too far from town. This standoff went on for months, until we’d almost despaired of finding a place that would make us both happy. In fact, I’d just about decided to give up my dreams of civilization (not too gracefully) and surrender to a life in the backwoods forever when, driving down a road we’d never traveled before, we turned a curve and saw a beautiful section of rolling pasture in the middle of a valley. “Wouldn’t it be nice if that were for sale?” my husband said. And guess what? It was. And it was only six miles from town. I could live with that, I thought.
There was only one problem—it was on a gravel road. “No, no, no,” I moaned. But the man selling the place assured us that the road was on the county’s list to be paved; “One year at the most,” he promised. Well, that seemed like something we could live with. It’d take nearly a year just to get a house built. Okay. Full steam ahead.
Five years later, we just got the road paved. I’m glad I didn’t know then how long I’d have to wait—I don’t think I’d have survived. I got sick to death of “dirty car” jokes, and even though I spent untold amounts of money at the carwash on the edge of town, my car was always dusty in the summer and muddy in the winter. Quite embarrassing, actually.
Think I’m exaggerating? Here’s what our road looked like last winter when the gas company’s dump trucks and eighteen-wheelers were using it as a superhighway. For a whole month, I couldn’t even get my car out of the driveway. My husband had to carry me everywhere I needed to go in his four-wheel drive. Needless to say, I was not very happy.
This summer, the gravel road was back to its normal dusty condition. Not great, but after a winter of slip-sliding away, I complained less than usual.
But after five years of waiting, finally, the Chip-Seal Road. No dust! No mud! Goodbye shame and embarassment.
There is one small problem. They built the road up so much that our mailbox is now knee-high. I wonder what the mailman thinks?
End of story: Now my husband can live the country boy's dream, and I can enjoy both the view from my front porch and a clean car. Oh, and we can be at the Sonic in just a few minutes. Does it get better than that?
One of the greatest simple pleasures of Fall for me is moving through leaves. I know it sounds childish and maybe even silly, but being in the middle of autumn leaves really makes me happy.