Roads I Have Traveled

“Goin' places that I've never been, Seein' things that I may never see again”
- Willie Nelson

(Again, a literary idea I wanted to play with. Indulge me.)

Parmalee Gulch Road, we have to have some words. We used to have a thing going on. First, there was some fondness, but that turned into a grudge and we were probably both rude to each other. You know, whatever. I'm over it. You helped me into some stuff new to me, but also some of it that was just rotten. A few weekends ago, all that finished. The old baggage is gone, and you're just a piece of asphalt. You and me, “Parmalee”, we're done. And you know what? You were supposed to have this reputation that's so bad and so scary. Whatever! There's two lanes, pavement, and even a rumble bar in the middle now. Not only have I found a worse road, but I've driven that worse road in darkness, storms, and way over the recommended speed.

Speaking of which, Old Stage Road, you're next. I don't think my car will ever be the same after the summer we spent together last year. My poor mirrors – they're now held on with zip ties after being taxed worse driving up the mountain than anywhere else I've ever been. You used to be my friend, promising peace and joy at my destination, though oddly mixed with relationship drama from the very beginning. I could check off all my favorite waypoints on my way up or down (OK, especially up), knowing that all the hard work of negotiating the drive would be worth it. I knew which curves I could safely accelerate through, and which I should slow down and honk for. And there may have been a time or two that I may have honked without slowing down and looking. Oops. I'm glad for the grudging friendship that we formed. It's a shame that we probably won't see much of each other again.

Havenwood, I guess you're next. Always tricksy on me both arriving and departing. Arriving, the turn over the top of the hill often took me by surprise, although I only left rubber behind once. Departing, you just seemed to want to be arduous and a tease. The traffic light only meant that someone somewhere got a green light at one time, not that I ever would. After all that, though, seeing you was an indicator that I was getting close to “someone special”, which made my heart glad every time. Guess that's over, huh?

Along the way, Ramblewood, shame on you for fooling me with your blind curves and identical mailboxes so many times. Even after dozens of traverses, you still made me count house numbers. Silly you.

I-25 south of Denver, you've been a fickle and deceitful friend. Even with four lanes each in the busy spot, you find a way to waylay me. I don't appreciate it – why can't you be dependable like your buddy I-70? Especially between Monument and Colorado Springs, you're not my friend.

Wow, it looks like I've made a list of enemies.

Highway 93, I'm glad we don't see each other much any more. During the summer, we get along as long as I set aside enough time to treat you with respect. During the winter, though, that respect turns into something just sort of dread, as I've seen you in a mood to eat cars for lunch. I understand your mountain-like free-wheeling personality, but still...

I-70, my on-again, off-again friend. West or east, you've always taken me where I was going. Be it DIA or past the Eisenhower Tunnel, you've treated me well. Remember the year I went to church in Aurora? Yeah...even then I knew I would always get there and usually on time. Even through bad weather or late at night, I always felt safe.

Highway 36, thanks for bailing me out when I needed it. Whenever I needed a quick diagonal across Denver, you helped me. I understand a lot of people don't like you, and I'm not a fan of the Wadsworth bridge myself, but still, you've been good to me.

Coal Creek Drive (and South Public Road by extension), we've known each other for a while, but it's only recently we've gotten to know each other very well. I hope we hang out for a long time still, because right now you're helping me literally be closer to God. (I know, God doesn't live in a building, but my point remains).

I bet you were expecting a post about metaphorical roads! What can I say? Sometimes it's OK to be unpredictable.