Our private road? Well, it was designed for flivver-drivers and leisurely to wind between Hither and East Yon. Grandpa stood on glistening macadam and pronounced it ``good'' but harrumph'd ``At last!'' and ``Finally!'' It lasted almost up until the mid-century. One April, some young surveyors were sent who found our handsome highway curved and bent much too far askew. Our meandering route, their chief explained, simply wouldn't suit what he called ``the contemporary trend'' saying, ``The means have now become the end of modern tourism.'' So it was promptly pruned.
We've come to like it here, cut off, marooned and thankful for that happenstantial bend. New tourists yell as their children stare, ``Look, kids! The old road went out there.''