From my front porch, I look directly out on U.S. Route 219 North, and this route carries a lot of traffic. As I was sitting in the swing the other day, I began to look at all the vehicles and their passengers and realized they all have a story to tell.
Here are some of them. The first is the one that caused me to stop and think about all the others. It took me back a bit in time, as I'm sure it will you.
A young couple in a beat-up old Ford truck, both windows rolled down, and she was sitting in the middle of the seat, right beside her honey. You can't do that anymore with these new vehicles and their center consoles. Think of the spoonin' we miss!
A brand new, cherry red, perfectly polished Mustang with a middle-aged man driving, at the wheel of a car he has dreamed about owning since he was 17.
A big boat of a Continental from the 1970s in tip-top shape, driven by an elderly man with his wife along, taking the car out for its weekly spin.
A 4-wheel-drive Ford, right out of the showroom and clean as a whistle, with a retired gentleman at the wheel, who always wanted a truck that never has to be used for truck purposes - just for show!
A silver van with mom at the wheel and all the kids buckled up. The 8-year-old boy in the passenger seat has on his Little League uniform and cap, on their way to Bluegrass Park for the game.
The 20-year-old Chevy truck, with every fender and door a different color, because the man driving it can't afford a new vehicle of any kind. He just has to keep adding pieces to the one he has.
The BMW two-seater convertible, top down, dark green, driven by a white-haired man wearing a golf cap, on his way to Canaan to play a few holes.
The red 4-wheel-drive pickup truck, pulling a horse trailer, two "passengers" in tow with tails drifting in the wind out the back, on their way to spend the day with Mother Nature.
The black pickup truck, pulling a two-wheeled trailer with a John Deere riding mower and a weed eater as its load, going to mow mom's yard.
The new style, smaller, white SUV coming off Leading Creek Road, slows down for the stop sign, and then barrels onto the highway because they are late getting somewhere.
The heavy duty diesel Ford - 4-wheel-drive of course - pulling a 28-foot Wilderness camper, laden with all they need for a weekend by the river.
The 10-year-old Buick, driven by an elderly gentleman with his wife as passenger, cruising north for a peaceful drive in the country. They don't go anywhere else much anymore.
The roar of a string of eight or 10 motorcycles - Harleys are the favorite - heading north for a scenic mountain excursion in Tucker County that can only be truly enjoyed on a bike. All passengers are dressed in leather and are completely content because it is a sunny day.
And always lots and lots of semis, mostly carrying fresh cut logs headed for a mill somewhere or a load of sawdust from Armstrong on its way to the Kingsford plant in Parsons. These guys put in long, hard days.
So, you see, there are all kinds of people who pass in front of my house in a few hours time. They're all on their way somewhere, with some purpose in mind. As ole Roy Rogers would say, "Happy trails!" I hope they all make it wherever they're going and back again. And I sure enjoyed meetin' them!