Roads and Rain

In a comment to one of my earlier posts, the very observant Lisa said:

The use of space in other parts of the country is really foreign to me. In Denver the local roads look as wide as Route (Root!) 128 to me. I'm used to living places where I can go outside, touch my house, reach out my arm and touch my neighbor's house at the same time. The whole idea that anyone would drive three hours for anything used to astonish me; around here, you've already driven by about 85 versions of the thing you were looking for. Drive an hour or so north or south of where I am and you've left the state completely for Rhode Island or New Hampshire.

This is all true. When I lived in West Texas, my husband used to tell people, "In Lubbock, if you can't get there in 20 minutes, you've got to pack a suitcase." The nearest large cities were Albuquerque (6 hours to the west) and Dallas (6 hours to the east). Better have a full tank of gas and a full belly before setting out--some of those roads were a bit empty. My mother grew visibly nervous on a drive to Santa Fe once. She was convinced we'd be buzzard bait if we ever broke down on the road. We reassured her that someone would be along in a few minutes--there was only the one road, so everyone had to use it.

We now routinely drive to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, for lunch or York, Maine, for an afternoon at the beach--both barely an hour away. Feel like getting away? No problem!