Rural Route 1

I grew up in the middle of no-where. Okay, not really. My playground was 11 acres in northeastern Iowa. We were about 10 minutes from our small town and 20 minutes from a fast food place or a retail store. It took an hour to get to a mall.

And get this. . . the gravel road that ran in front of my house didn't have a name. I didn't have a cool street name like Adams or Maple. . . or even the somewhat less impressive numerical streets.

Nope. My address was:

RR1 Box 65

Rural Route 1.

I rode bikes and horses along that road. I dug tunnels in the drifted snow along that rural route. I considered the ditches my Terabithia and built bridges over the water in the spring.

When I was in middle school our street was named. A requirement of the 911 system. And then I lived on Crystal Road. Looking back. . . RR1 was way cooler.

*Note: this barn is not at my parents place, but rather my aunt and uncle's who lived just down yet another name-less road.