Livin' at the End of the Road

When I seized the opportunity to buy my own piece of the Texas Coast nine years ago, I saw #1 on my living requirements list: a great place for my kitties. A place could be perfect in every other way, but if it wasn’t a good arrangement for my furry companions, it wouldn’t do. Here was no through traffic, a big shady yard, bayou behind for exploring, covered porch for sitting on and hiding under. Of course, all those aspects were great for me as well, except for the hiding under the porch.

What I hadn’t expected to find was the entertainment value of living, literally, at the end of the road. Some city work on the street-side drainage ditches awhile back made it very clear: spray painted on the street directly in front of my house were the words “Road Ends.” I suppose that was to make it clear to the equipment operators that the grassy expanse beyond the semi-paved end of the street was no longer the road.

It develops that a large sign with that same sentiment, up the street a ways, would be a good thing. Well, maybe it wouldn’t help. I’ve noticed, in various venues, not many folks actually read the notices and signs placed here and there for their benefit, such as “No printing available on this computer,” “Please use this door,” and at garage sales “These items not for sale.” The attention paid to these guides along our way seems to be seriously lacking.

Often, as I’m enjoying that covered porch with the cats, vehicles will appear from the west, going at a pretty good clip, obviously bound for someplace other than the houses on either side of the road. Most of the time the driver (or a vigilant passenger) notices the grass, trees, and church hall dead ahead, and, after screeching to a halt, make the right turn onto 7th Street, to continue trying to find their way through town. Occasionally the travelers are oblivious to their approach to the end of the road, and will be past my house and onto the meadow. Recent heavy rain will hinder the U-turn option of going back the way one came, hence numerous crop-circle-type depressions will decorate the terrain for some time. Back-ups would be recommended on most occasions, but no one asks me.

On one occasion, on a sunny afternoon, a scene straight out of a CSI show played out in front of the neighbors. The cats had the good sense to flee to their secret entry under the house, where the possibility of getting hit with flying debris is greatly diminished. First, an ordinary vehicle came hurtling down the street from the West, and made no effort to slow or avert, tore across the grassy sward, bounced through the slough, up the slope beyond, past the church hall, and ripped off to the South on 6th Street. Right behind it came a highway patrol car, and a county sheriff’s car, tearing across the grass, over the muddy hollow, up the little hill, making it past the church hall, and then off toward Bay Ave. The saving grace was that we hadn’t received 15+ inches of rain in the previous days. Or, if we had, the whole parade would have piled up in the bog, creating a whole different scenario.

Notwithstanding all of this, it’s more often than not a quiet end of the road that I have here, and I enjoy it tremendously. I DO advocate parking one’s vehicles in driveways, and off the street.