I took a walk yesterday through the rural community where my family has a getaway. It’s far from fancy and the roads are covered in a gravel-type material. The occasional car breaks the sound of crunch, crunch, crunch as I walk, but mostly it’s very quiet and idyllic.
We are taught, at a very young age, not to walk in the middle of the street. But in such a setting, the pull was just too great. I just had to, counting on the sound of tires on gravel to alert me.
There was something almost rebellious about walking down the center of that winding hilly road. It was freeing. I got lost in my thoughts since nothing sounds better than walking on gravel; that crunch was hypnotic. I remembered my days in high school in the marching band, working on drills that included 8 steps to 5 yards and other such silly memories.
A sudden sound pulled me out of my reverie as a car came swooping around the corner, much faster than the 15mph posted speed. I dashed for the side of the road as a delivery truck sped past. The driver stuck his head out of the window and yelled, “Pick a side, buddy!”
My “near death” experience made me think that it’s normally a good thing to ‘pick a side’. After all if you don’t, then what do you care about, right? It points you to your tribe, your community and your comfort zone.
But sometimes, it’s just fun to walk down the middle of road and see what happens.
