The Country Way

VIEWPOINT

By RALPH HARDIN

Evening Times Editor

When I was a kid growing up in Marion, we frequently visited my grandmother who lived on Balfour Road over in West Memphis. I think if I left my house right now (I live around the block from my parents’ house — the house I grew up in) I could be there in less than 10 minutes.

But for some reason, it seemed much further away when I was a kid. Looking back, I think part of it was that I don’t think my Dad ever drove more than 40 miles per hour, so everything seemed further away then. There are about four or five different ways to get there from here, depending on how big of a hurry you are in, how the traffic is or what time of day it is.

But for us kids, the preferred was “the country way.” Now, if you’re confused, thinking there is no “country way” you can think of to get from Old Marion to the northwest corner of West Memphis, well, you’re not thinking of whay your options would have been in 1977 or so.

Whe we said “the country way,” we meant going down Highway 77 instead of taking the Interstate (I mean, what does it matter if we’re not going to go but 40 miles per hour anyway, right). You wouldn’t know it to look at it, but back in the day,

See VIEWPOINT, page A5 VIEWPOINT

From page A4

Highway 77 was basically two lanes of blacktop. And by “blacktop” I don’t mean asphalt. I mean gravel mixed with tar to form a hard but not quite paved road. There wasn’t much to see as you went down 77 back then, which was just what we wanted.

There might be horses or cows in the field, or some nice high cotton. I’m sure there were buildings then but the only one I can remember was Bill’s Grill, which, along with places like Earl’s Hot Biscuits, Pancho’s, and Uncle Johns, are culinary treats that future generations will sadly never know. I guess maybe it’s not as in fashion as it once was, but just going for “as drive” out in the country was big fun in the bygone days of cruising along in my Mom’s 30-foot Plymouth Fury with the windows down, dust flying in and mixing with the cigarette smoke as we bounced around in the giant back seat. That route was our favorite way to go, but our second favorite was the I-55 Service Road. You know, the one with the ridiculously low wooden bridge that runs near the Lake Shore Trailer Park.

The bridge was cool, but even cooler was the little “dip” just north of the bridge that doesn’t quite have the same drop that it used to, but back then, it was like the first drop on a roller coaster — if you know, you know. Nowadays, there isn’t a whole lot of “country” left in Crittenden County, and what there is mostly sits behind a fence of some kind.

Even Martha’s Bridge is in a subdivision, but it sure would be cool to go back down the country way one more time…