It was about half a lifetime ago that my inner history geek stirred awake for good. After long nights working at Subway or the call center, my friends and I would pile into my car, grab fountain pops and cigarettes from the RIggin Road Market, and set off down the backroads in search of something, though we never could have said what. Old bridges? Forgotten schoolhouses? Flowing wells? We found a lot of those, but perhaps we were pining for the thrill of discovery itself. Those drives were our escape, our rebellion, and, in many ways, the start of everything I do now.
I turn thirty-five today. All these years later, not much has changed. I still chase the same feeling. I’m still exploring the countryside, I still stop to take pictures, and I still follow faint traces of the past wherever they lead. The only differences are that I write about it now, and I’m the only one from those old nights still doing it. The roads are quieter, but my purpose feels deeper. Maybe that’s what getting older really is: finding meaning in the echoes that once just felt like noise.
Aside from a few stragglers I still chat with every once in a while, I’m not sure what became of the friends who shared those long nights with me. Life pulled us all in different directions. One got married. Another got divorced. Others had kids. Some packed up and moved across the state. Some moved across the country! Others simply drifted off the radar, leaving little behind but the memories of what we once shared.
Sometimes I catch myself wondering where they ended up, if they still think about those drives, or if they even remember them at all. For me, those nights were the start of something that never really ended. For them, maybe it was just a passing chapter before real life set in. Either way, those memories still feel alive every time I turn onto a back road by myself. It almost feels like my car’s headlights might catch their silhouettes somewhere out in the boondocks.Â
Every now and then, I’ll drive past one of the places we explored together -a rusted truss bridge, a country cemetery, a half-collapsed schoolhouse swallowed by trees- and I’ll feel a pang of something I can’t really name. It’s nostalgia, maybe, but also gratitude: back then, we didn’t realize we were documenting something that was already vanishing. Just as we were finding ourselves, the world around us was leaving piece by piece. As it turns out, those midnight drives were more than aimless adventures. Even if we didn’t know it, they were small acts of preservation. We were bearing witness to places on the edge of disappearing, and in some strange way, that helped shape who I became.
I’ve lived long enough to know how fragile plans can be, how friendships fade, and how the things we once thought would last forever so often don’t. I’ve also learned that some sparks never really go out. That same restlessness that sent me down the backroads at eighteen or nineteen is still there.Â
Thirty-five feels like the point where nostalgia and purpose finally meet: where I can honor the person I was without trying to be him again, and where I can still keep chasing the horizon with that same sense of wonder. Maybe that’s the gift of getting older. I’m not leaving the past behind, but I’m carrying it forward into whatever comes next.
Happy birthday. Curiosity is a great life companion.
Happy birthday to you Ted! I’ve been following your posts for a while now, and I admit that I assumed you were closer in age to me – I turned 66 this year. I am tremendously pleased to hear that you are only 35!.. It pleases me to no end to see younger people who have interests in local history, old buildings, and changes in their community. That you have had this passion for perhaps half of your life warms my heart.
I also have to admit that I’m a bit jealous as from the time I was your age the commitments of jobs, family, kids, etc conspired to prohibit me in younger times from histing the roads and exploring as you do.
Keep up the good work, we’ll be watching!
Thanks, Chad! I’m thrilled you found my blog and that you figured I was older. I get that a lot. Sometimes I’m envious of those with families and kids, but I better keep on doing what I do. I appreciate you!
Thank you, Ted, for your reflection on turning 35. I’m a bit older than you, but do remember that era of aimless midnight drives with friends/acquaintances comprised of co-workers and whoever’s around. This seems to be a common experience for those of us living in a suburban environment and who didn’t go away to school. And like you, I have no idea what happened to the folks I hung out with when I was 18-22. After that my friendships became more determined by common interest rather than proximity. (There was a brief moment when I moved to Portland when I was 25 and I had a couple “friends” who were that because they were around, but that faded fast.) Sometimes I look back on those days wistfully, but I’m happier where I am now.
Looking forward to seeing what your next chapter looks like. Happy Birthday!
Thanks Shawn! Those aimless drives were a lot of fun. I’ve gained a lot of friends from common interests since I’ve started this blog, though, and I’m glad that’s been the case with you. I think I’m happier where I’m at now, too. In fact, the day I wrote this post one of my old friends unexpectedly reached out to me after nine years. Unfortunately, I think I’m glad to say those days have passed.
A beautifully bittersweet reflection. Happy birthday!
Thanks.
You are a wonderful writer. I just moved to Delaware County a few years ago and am so glad that I found your blog so I can learn more about the history of this area. Thank you for taking the time to do this! And Happy Birthday!
Thanks so much! Glad to be of assistance!
Congratulations on 35!
I’m a little jealous that your inner history nerd awakened at a young age. Mine didn’t awaken until I was 39, and was driven by my divorce. I just needed to get out of my head so I started driving the old roads to see where they went, and thence it came.
Thanks, Jim. I’m grateful my history nut awoke when it did. Couldn’t have it any other way.
Congratulations on reaching what I think of as a milestone age. You are old enough to be fully into adulthood (meaning old enough that people take you seriously) but still young enough to chart your own course (instead of treadin the path chosen by long-ago decisions). Looking back, I don’t really remember 35 – being in the pandemonium of a young family will do that to you.
I love reading about your searches for history that is in your neighborhood instead of somewhere else.
Thanks again, Jim. I’m both grateful and evnious that I don’t have a young family to deal with.
I’m late to say it, but happy birthday! Your reflections resonate with me, as I’m only a few years older, and I too get driven by the strange compulsion to know what used to happen here.
I’m glad you’re here, Greg! The aerials you’ve dug up have been a big help in uncovering some of the stories I’ve mentioned after the fact.