For my family, our Sunday drives in the 1970s and ‘80s were adventures piloted by my father who generally kept our route to himself as a way of making it seem more like a quest.
My neighbor lives just up the street. In fact, if I leaned pretty far out over my front porch, I could see her house. I figured the grill had wheels, so I’d just roll it on home.
“The Cow Path to Culture" (Route 88) is a standing metaphor for much of life in the northern part of the Mountain State and throughout the Appalachian region. [read more]