Further on 24 Highway

Image of road in Ireland, not 24 highway.

I took to driving east on Highway 24 the spring of 1995. I was sad, lonely and jobless. Listening to a Throwing Muses tape that had The Real Ramona on one side and University on the other, I smoked weed and cigarettes and traveled through the downpours and verdant hills of that season. I first started going to Lexington. I would stop at the battlefield next to Anderson House and then made my way back home. Eventually, I ventured further and further east on 24. Driving in that part of the country reminded me of Ireland. I had never been to Ireland, but I had seen pictures and my imagination has always been wild. I wished I was in Ireland. I wished I was anywhere but in my own life.
My next favorite turnaround town became Brunswick. I thought about living there. One time I decided to discover the town a little more and turned north off of 24. I went up a steep hilled street and nearly ran into a old grave yard. I took that as a bad sign, that I was making haste during a bad situation and that living in Brunswick wasn't a smart move.
As days went on, it became an obsession to drive on 24 Hwy. Winding roads through green mossy hills in grey misty weather beckoned my lost soul. Each escape driving me further and further. My farthest distance was when I went to Moberly and instead of turning around there like I planned, I decided to drive a little more. I ended up seeing a sign that said 47 miles to Quincy, Illinois. Just seeing another state on the sign reminded me that I needed to head back home.

The best experience I had on 24 Hwy was at the bridge over the Missouri River out of Waverly. As soon as I crossed the bridge, I found that my beloved highway was no more. I would not make it to Brunswick that day. All that could be seen were a few tree tops floating in an enormous lake that drowned the highway, a silo and farm fields. I parked my car on the shoulder and walked around staring in amazement. The part of the highway that I was standing on looked more like a boat ramp as it slipped into flood waters. Old folks who were also trying to go a little further on 24 highway were turning around on the boat ramp and rubbernecking me like I was a crazy kid. I was, kind of, but when something so colossal as that has happened, how can they just turn around so quickly without at least surveying the capabilities of nature? I have a plan to someday take the original 24 Highway East all the way to the end in Pontiac, Michigan.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._Route_24
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Battle_of_Lexington
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brunswick,_Missouri (home of the largest concrete pecan and has a hilarious town motto)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waverly_Bridge_(Missouri)