I
vCwV5 Abova, "RUSH SQUARES" rug, 'VtV; $
X Alrtahl. Sivle 4421. Both stylei k2i B3
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4 H
Style 4420.
Al right, Style 4421. Both i
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RUGS AND FLOOR COVERING
0 vZSDcfXnzo
"this motorcycling around the country is really some
thing," said the counterman in the all-night cafe.
"The other night a couple came in from the West Indies. .
They're cycling across the United States. Boy,
that's not for me."
The man holding the forkful of pie put it into his mouth
and chewed slowly before he answered.
"Ah, it's great. Me and the missus just got back from Chi
cago. Rode 700 miles round trip on seven bucks worth of gas.
Saw the stock-car races last night and one of them big zoos."
The missus scraped the egg on her plate and beamed.
Both she and her mister were dusty and tired, but in
their wind-burned faces achievement burned. . ' .
The counterman poured another cup of coffee.
"There's a Canadian gal about 40. She comes through
here every Summer on her way to Mexico. Says she takes
cowpaths through the country down there.
She loves it. Wouldn't stop traveling for anything."
Of such is America. The urge to be somewhere else.
The spirit of adventure. The pride of seeing it all. The notice
in the newspaper: "Mr. and Mrs. George Brooks returned
last evening to their home here after a 4,200-mile trip
through Western states ..."
George Brooks and his wife don't have a motorcycle. They
have a house trailer or a new station wagon or a sports car.
And they return loaded with souvenirs and picture postcards
and strange stones and snapshots. They expect the envy of
their friends and they are not disappointed. Home is where ,
the heart is, but even the heart is not averse to adventure.
And there are the wondrous words of a road map and the
intricacies of timetables and intersecting lines. A man can
drive until his bones ache and his eyes sting with fatigue, but
he will have crossed the Mississippi at Keokuk or Vicksburg
and eaten his hasty lunch in Demopolis and bought a cool
drink in Kentucky.
And the ribbon of road beyond him stretches endlessly, a
shimmering Lorelei which beckons him until he reaches the
Atlantic or the Pacific or the Gulf coast or the Canadian
border. And he must travel onward lest he miss a moment or
an experience of the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls
Richness, of course, is not always on Route 66, and it is not
always enchantment beyond the horizon but sometimes
merely distance.
But who's to know unless he seeks it for himself?
The turnpike to contentment ends at a man's own door. .
Sometimes he must take the long way home.
Family Weekly, May IS, 1958