I live at the end of a long dirt road. And that’s just fine with me.
But in my younger years, I abhorred dirt roads. My attitude then was, “Give me pavement or give me death.”
I couldn’t wait to make a life for myself in the big city. It looked inviting and tempting with its flash, glitz and “bling bling.” It seemed to offer comfort, security, wealth and endless entertainments.
Then came the day when I realized that those were all empty promises. Not that those things weren’t there. They were. And we all need a little of that in our lives. But I’ve found that just a very little will do.
It had gradually dawned on me that none of those things were really the most desirable parts of life. Something within told me there was more.
But the dirt roads were still a problem.
So, I left the city and moved a little way into the country just to try it out. My driveway was dirt, but the road in front of the house was paved. This seemed like a nice compromise — one foot on pavement, the other on dirt; a little bit country, a little bit rock ’n’ roll.
It didn’t take long to discover that I had moved in the right direction. The serenity of a cool country morning, the feeling of room to move and breathe as well as the profound peacefulness it imparted gradually seduced me. That voice within said there was still more to discover in going totally country.
So I started a two-year search that landed me in Lassen County, Calif. where I found the ground I wanted to build on. But the only access was across a long dirt road that was either terribly dusty or disconcertingly muddy.
That was still a bit of a problem.
But I gritted my teeth, swallowed hard and took the leap. If driving dirt roads was the cost of living here, so be it. It seemed a small sacrifice to make for what I had found.
Like Indiana Jones in his search for the Holy Grail, I couldn’t see the bridge to my goal until I sprinkled a little dirt and gravel on it.
Since that time, nearly 15 years ago, I’ve come to see dirt roads for what they are: a boundary that separates the substantive, vital and essential world from the symbolic, virtual and synthetic world we’ve created.
A dirt road teaches that life is not a smooth path with painted lines to keep you going in the right direction. Bouncing down a dirt road, you quickly learn that life is an uneven, challenging and demanding thing.
Dirt roads build character, while paved roads lead to places where emotional confusion, tumult and chaos reign.
Dirt roads are to the human soul what grounding is to electricity — a way to avoid the harmful side effects of an otherwise useful power.
People who live at the end of a dirt road value one another more because they have learned to appreciate the effort others made to be where they are in life.
Most criminals won’t go down a dirt road because they see nothing of interest at the other end, say nothing of the ordeal of crossing it.
That other guy can’t tailgate you on a dusty dirt road. Road rage is never a problem. Neither are traffic jams.
Dirt roads teach patience. You can’t do 65 on a dirt road without winding up sideways.
When you do encounter another car going the other way on a dirt road, each slows and moves over to allow the other to pass. It’s not only courtesy, either. It’s simple caution to ensure a margin of personal safety.
Dirt roads teach frugality and planning. You only cross them when necessary. There are no quick trips to the store to do a little impulse buying of things that you really don’t need and can’t afford. Trips are planned and organized, purchases are budgeted.
In my off-the-beaten-path opinion, everyone should know what it’s like to live at the end of a dirt road. The world would be a much more pleasant place.
Not a bad "one-eighty" for a guy who hated dirt roads.