Telling you to take my word for it was a cop out.

The reason you need to know country roads more than city roads is complicated. Do I need to defend why hand-crafted is better than machine crafted? I suppose there is something metaphysical about the human touch and human sweat. Probably because we are made in the image of God, and our touch and the exertion of our personal energy leaves behind traces of it. Machines produce a sterile object. Touch traces can be transferred to the object after it is made however, but transferred humanity is not the same as innate humanity. It is humanized by personalized individualistic adoption, not nature.

But your country road is paved by a machine, you say. Yes, but it wasn’t always, and it mostly follows the natural contours of the landscape, of course some grading occurs, instead of being so falsely elevated by landfill that one loses touch with the natural environment. Interstates are so removed from the earth that driving them is akin to air travel. Flying isn’t evil, but it is gnostic. Being disconnected from your body isn’t natural, but it is what occurs in death, and God has made temporary allowances for that.

But wouldn’t it be healthier to stick with dirt roads?, you ask. Yes, but we can’t. It would be silly and here’s why. Dirt roads are only practical for small distances… Oh but you used the word, practical, I hear you saying, isn’t that the utilitarian word that ushered in the industrial revolution? Yes, you got me. Let me clarify. Dirt roads were made and used when horses provided the power. People, whether walking or riding, only averaged 20 miles on a good day. This is why small old towns, like Springtown and Weatherford, are 20 miles from each other. One would have to be Amish to maintain the lifestyle surrounding those old dirt roads. We do not live in that world any more, and it is practically impossible, not that the Amish are wrong to exert themselves thus. Maybe I have compromised too much by not centering my activities closer to my home, but I do drive to Springtown twice a week for our pound of horseflesh, and 70 miles away to Denton to go to Church at least twice a week. I take the interstates to Denton, therefore I gnostically fly, so that I can have real flesh and blood communion with Christ about twice a week. Our cars are not made for dirt roads. A dirt road will shorten its life, and that’s not being a good steward, in my opinion.

So I will accept machine pavement for my machine car, but will drive paved country roads where you can still feel and see the countryside whenever it doesn’t take too much extra time, so that I can also tend to my other responsibilities. Something has to give. There is this one dirt road that I like to take when rarely driving from one direction. It may be a mile long, and it runs along a ridge that gives a stunning view of the Brazos River valley. You have to go very slowly because of it’s unevenness and rockiness so you have time to notice the grey gnarly grain in the fence posts, and the rusty barbs on the wire, and the grey and white birds flitting over you, and the thorny grey-green cactus and mesquite trees.

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