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Getting Lost...or Found
It doesn’t take much to get me off the Interstate. I’ll take U.S. or State Highways any day. County roads are even better.
May 25, 2020
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I stopped along the back roads I was taking home in a little ghost of a town named Prescott.
I let Biggie stretch her legs while I had a cigar and enjoyed the quiet of the neglected baseball Diamond on the edge of town.
As we sat there, I watched a young father giving his toddler a ride on his motorcycle. Around the block he went...then again...then again.
I knew his route, so on my way out I took the opposite direction, the gravel road that went along the backside of his place.
I waved him to stop as I approached.
“I’ve been watching you two go ride the whole time I was over relaxing with a cigar. Can I get your picture?” I asked.
His name is Wayne and his two-year-old son is Grayson. Nice guy.
I snapped a few with my iPhone in the low light as we chatted about his son, his cars, and such.”
I tried talking to Grayson to get him to smile. “He won’t talk to you,” Wayne replies. I didn’t pry.
As I was saying my goodbyes, his older son ran out of the house and hopped on behind, holding on to the back of his dad’s overalls for safety.
I'm just a guy who finds the world an interesting place and likes to capture certain moments with a camera. They aren't for sale, or anything. I just like them. Well, usually. I've taken a lot of photos I don't like, as well.
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It doesn’t take much to get me off the Interstate. I’ll take U.S. or State Highways any day. County roads are even better.
I'm planning a short, impromptu Kooky's Road Trip to the Lamar Free Fair, in Lamar. MO. I'll wander south this afternoon, drop by the fair tomorrow and blow through some film, then head back north at some point.
I saw it from the interstate, the old, neglected, neon, motel sign sitting along old Route 66. I had to exit and go back. The old motel was as neglected as the sign. This place hasn’t had a patron in ages...
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