The Back Roads

I followed the back roads to get home. I drove past long-forgotten places. They sagged with history and, sometimes, poverty. The highway would’ve been faster, but I like the back roads. They hold secret treasures. 

Bumpus Mills was an unlikely town hidden on a hillside. I passed a mechanics garage and Bumpus Mills Baptist Church. The sign above their door declared “Jesus Saves.” I figured that’s enough to keep any town going.

The winding asphalt road snaked by tall groves of pine trees.  Then the road disappeared into rolling fields dotted with falling-down barns.

Brave remnants of farm houses, patched together for years, still whispered life. Drifting window curtains, flower patches or here-and-there pickup trucks told me folks still live in these hills. 

A few cattle grazed next to  ponds in ravines shimmering with muddy shallows. The cows were curious why I took this route. They chewed and gazed at my car in disbelief. 

My route just didn’t make sense.

The asphalt road wound on without median or markings.

Then, suddenly, it became a smooth black-tar ribbon, marked with luxurious bright yellow stripes. The stripes led me uphill and down again.  I floated for a bit. 

Then, without warning,  stripes and road disappeared. Gravel crackled beneath my tires. I rolled onto a narrow lane.

“Welcome to Kentucky,” my GPS told me.

I had to laugh.

“Well, OK,” I said out loud to no one in the car. “I trust you.” 

I kept rolling past more forgotten farms. White dogwood trees spread confetti onto the roadway. Beautiful scenery took my breath away. 

Even though the road dwindled, churches appeared . They sat tucked in cozy corners as hopeful  little monuments of long-gone communities.

I rolled past Prosperity Baptist and Schoffers Lutheran, Liberty Barn and Gateway Church, New Beginnings Chapel  and Good Samaritan Center.

I turned left on Tobacco Port Road. I found a lake! A huge pool lingered lazily at the base of hills. 

It was hard to get down to the lake.  A steep one-way road spilled into the water.  I made my way down, wondering how I’d  make it out. 

 An elderly couple sat on the tailgate of a boat trailer, watching one-way traffic pulling themselves up the hillside from the lake. The old man in overalls and mama in patterned house dress waved at me as my car struggled up the gravel. I figured I was their Sunday entertainment. 

When I made it to the hilltop, a shed shop welcomed me. Their sign promised Bait, Beer and Biscuits.

A nearby lodge also promised Bluegill and Steaks.

Beyond the lake, I found creeks. I climbed over Doris Creek and  Rippy Ridge Creek and Pickens Creek and Dyers Creek.

Near Dyers Creek I found “Granddady’s Farm” and a roadside produce stand. The next roadside stand was guarded by a Big Foot statue.

RCs Greenhouse stated it was “A Groovy Place to Shop”.

In spite of tourist charm this land was harsh, however. Many homes were ramshackle and run down.

Perpetual yard sales cluttered the fronts of tiny homes. Yard clutter spilled over. “Sale Today!” signs shouted . I could tell the “sale” happened every day, as long as there was hope for income.  Plastic tarps draped over on rainy days.

Some yards were car graveyards. Metal carcasses stood rusting by front doors. Trucks and cars clung there, ready to be harvested for spare parts and hopefully, spare cash. 

Many back roads were criss-crossed by Civil War signs. Battlefield markers dotted the roads. Some cannons even lingered there. I couldn’t imagine hauling cannons up back road hills.   I also thought about mothers who walked these fields to find the bodies of sons who didn’t make it out. 

I reflected on heroes as I travelled Brigadier General Austin Highway, the Purple Heart Highway and a road named for Corporal William W. Morris, Medal of Honor recipient.

GPS told me the interstate was near.  I knew I had to stop soaking in the beauty, culture, and history of back roads. 

Back roads are people. Back roads are stories. Back roads are the backbone.

You can learn a lot about our country on the back roads. 

I’m glad I went on the adventure.