The Highway

I've always heard people talk about “my way or the highway.” Their way IS the highway.

The highway is the way that gets you right where you need to go. No thrills, no hassles, no surprises. Just a set speed where you can zip right along to the destination. And there's an accident or two along the way, sure. A chance to stop and slow down, look at the carnage, and drive on. You can get off the highway in a safe place, stop for a bite, but then you get right back on. The sights are the same, and you know just what to do. All across the land, you know just where you're going.

My way is not the highway.

My way stays off the highway.

When you stay away from the highway, you take all kinds of unexpected twists and turns, detours and old roads that have been worn to the ground and forgotten. You see all kinds of things that you never expected to see. You make all kinds of stops and starts, taking in the sights, meeting people in the most unexpected of places. You never know where the downtrodden paths will lead, and it adds excitement to every trip when I take a new route to an old destination.

I don't see too many wrecks on these back roads. I see people and places worn from trip after trip, but they look all the tougher, all the better for it. They never run out of memories to share. They'll tell me about when their first trip off the highway. They get the smile on their face about the first sight they saw, the first sound they heard, that really  made that smile on their face stay there.

I always remember the things I never expected to see more. I always remember the faces of those who had a story to tell of their trips off the highway. I always remember the places I stopped, took it all in and stared off into the distance, letting myself get lost in the view. From the highest peaks, to the lowest of valleys, I am constantly enthralled.

And a smile curls across my face.

The trips I take when I stay off the highway always make me smile more.