Roads are a strange thing. There are fast lanes, slow lanes, dirt roads, paved roads, back roads and highways to hell. Each is traveled with a certain purpose. That purpose might be unknown to the traveler as the time, however, it will be found out sooner or later. Life itself is constantly switching lanes without the use of a turning signal, forcing you to become accustom to whip lash at a young age. Decisions, choices, and moments can direct this lunch time rush hour in a chaotic beauty that represents the spark that is your life. Some people prefer the dare devil rush of the fast lane and high ways, other prefer the safe smooth ride of the slow lane and paved roads. However, I prefer the peaceful ride of a back road. It is paved but has it rough spots; it twists and turns with unexpected stops. It is warm and smells like a cornfield and looks like a sunset in the heat of summer. It taste like spearmint gum and sweet tea and sounds like peaceful hum of cicadas and Jonny Cash. It has potholes and small animals dart under your wheels in a moment of panic, but I know, no matter where I am that it leads me back home.