U.S. Route 52 winds and curves diagonally from the South Carolina coast to the Canadian border in North Dakota. 2,072 miles of pavement stretches through forests, fields, cities, and small towns, but only one one hundredth of a mile means anything to me. In a lonely passage connecting Dubuque to Bellevue, one specific spot shortly after a break in the trees, for one second, allows you to see 180 degrees in every direction. I anticipate it on my drive home and slow down slightly as I approach it.
In the split second I spend there, I take in my surroundings. In front of me and behind me, the concrete extends from horizon line to horizon line. It shows evidence of years of weather abuse and makeshift snowplows scratching across the surface in the form of deep cracks and a sun-bleached top. The yellow paint, though redone every few years, seems faded and washed out. Next to the road on either side, the ditches are populated with all kinds of wild flowers and brush. Vibrant shades of green, yellow, and purple pop in contrast to the brown skeletons of bushes.
To one side, downtown Dubuque pokes through the valley of two grassy slopes. To the other side, I see rolling hills populated with soybeans and corn stalks. Three plain houses dot my surroundings; all are worn but not unkept. Old machinery and antique statues litter their …show more content…
The speed limit is 55 but for once, no one minds when I drive 25 under. As cars slowly creep along the road, my spot becomes more prominent. The browns, blacks, and greys of the buildings in Dubuque stick out like a sore thumb among the brilliant white snow reflecting the sun’s rays. One or two cornstalks poke out under the layers of ice and snow flakes, but the majority of them hide under the snow. In this time of year, I can feel the crisp air in my car no matter how high I turn on the heat. The cold wind almost overwhelms my other senses; I know that I will not smell nature again until
In the split second I spend there, I take in my surroundings. In front of me and behind me, the concrete extends from horizon line to horizon line. It shows evidence of years of weather abuse and makeshift snowplows scratching across the surface in the form of deep cracks and a sun-bleached top. The yellow paint, though redone every few years, seems faded and washed out. Next to the road on either side, the ditches are populated with all kinds of wild flowers and brush. Vibrant shades of green, yellow, and purple pop in contrast to the brown skeletons of bushes.
To one side, downtown Dubuque pokes through the valley of two grassy slopes. To the other side, I see rolling hills populated with soybeans and corn stalks. Three plain houses dot my surroundings; all are worn but not unkept. Old machinery and antique statues litter their …show more content…
The speed limit is 55 but for once, no one minds when I drive 25 under. As cars slowly creep along the road, my spot becomes more prominent. The browns, blacks, and greys of the buildings in Dubuque stick out like a sore thumb among the brilliant white snow reflecting the sun’s rays. One or two cornstalks poke out under the layers of ice and snow flakes, but the majority of them hide under the snow. In this time of year, I can feel the crisp air in my car no matter how high I turn on the heat. The cold wind almost overwhelms my other senses; I know that I will not smell nature again until