Country lesson numero uno. I like to think that 95% of the time I have accepted these shiny dust particles as part of my life now. The other 5% of the time I am saying very bad words about it. I pay $430 a year to keep it from swallowing me whole and making my home unfit to live in. They spray the road with what I hope to God is some sort of "green" chemical twice a year, so the vehicles careening down the road, don't create dust clouds that swarm over our entire acreage. I have even dreamed of instigating an "accidental oil spill " in front of my house, and bribed road maintenance to look the other way. My dark side. The saying from dust to dust, feels a bit creepy, when it's constantly visible.
Chatting of road maintenance, this is a constant activity in the country on every gravel road 7 months out of the year. They need to contour, grate and dump gravel on the roads. Sometimes your straddling large long mounds of dirt for miles, and hope like heck another car does not come at you, or you could tear your exhaust pipe off hitting that mound. Grating summons from the depths of the earth any nail, screw, glass or jagged piece of metal that apparently was left in the middle of nowhere. These items will find their way into my car tires so frequently I have the local tire shop on speed dial, I know all about the owners family from spending so much time together. It baffles me that farm machinery could have spewed all this debris over time and still be drive-able.
So very much "tire talk" there is young Jedi. We actually have piles of tires, piles. Someday I think we will haul them somewhere.
Life on Gravel
About the Author
City girl sharing stories of a life full of country glitter and other shit.