Breakfast at Mema’s

A portion of Chapter One of Breakfast At Mema’s Road Less Traveled One Sunday afternoon Danny borrowed the keys to Dad’s baby blue Chevy truck for a drive and asked if I’d like to come along. We jumped in the truck, slammed the big doors and headed off together. To get maximum pleasure on our summer drive, we rolled the windows down and opened the vent windows wide. To make sure we stayed cool and comfortable we opened the floor vents too. This accentuated the feeling of speed and freedom, which is, of course, what driving is all about. We drove out on Barnett Springs Road where there’s a series of hills and valleys that mimic a roller coaster ride and had a good time driving around for only twenty-five cents a gallon. I was snug up to the passenger door side of the truck and feelin’ mighty proud seeing my big brother with both hands on the steering wheel, driving as confidently and safely as my dad. After we’d explored west of town a while, Danny headed back and we drove north through Ruston. The year was around 1960 and the national system of interstate roads was under construction. The engineers decided that Interstate 20 going east to Mississippi and west to Texas would come right through our town. I hadn’t stopped to contemplate the incredible impact these new, high-speed roads would have on the nation’s transportation system and suburbanization. However, I was painfully aware that Jeanette, the prettiest girl in my class and the one I was sure I would wed, had to move ‘cause the highway people had bought their house and bull-dozed it right over to make room for the new super-highway. They’d been working on the new roadway for several years and by all appearances it was now finished, but for unknown reasons hadn’t opened. The big wide entry and exit ramps were just sittin’ there waiting for us. From the overpass, for as far as you could see to the east and to the west, were two beautiful new ribbons of white concrete. They even had the stripes painted and everything. We decided, “What the heck? Nobody else is using it… let’s check it out!” Danny slipped the truck around the barrier with “ROAD CLOSED” painted in big black letters, and eased on down the ramp heading west toward Arcadia where my grandmother lived. We were treated to the smoothest riding road I’d ever experienced in my eight years of riding. We picked up speed gradually, the only way you could pick up speed with the straight six-cylinder engine. It was certainly no dragster, but very dependable, just like my brother. He was a good driver and an all around good guy. Soon we were moving along fairly well, the wind was blowin’ in the windows and I noticed we passed right over the place where Jeanette’s neighborhood used to be on a hill. The hill was completely gone but for a minute I thought about our walks together after school, and the times we stood close and held hands in the bushes where no one could see us.