Larsen Road

This is the road that my parents took to bring me home from the hospital.

My mom pushed me in a stroller down this road.

It is the road where I scraped my knees and elbows as a child.

The road where I learned to ride a bike.

This is the road that Grandma and Grandpa Roberts lived on.

The road I drove the two-toned green Ford Econoline on, while sitting on my dad's lap, coming home from church.

As a child, I laid on this road and picked little pockets of tar open with a sharp rock on hot summer days.

Inches of bike tire and skate wheel were grated off on this road.

This road was my parade route while Amy and I waved brooms and sang "You're a Grand Old Flag" at the top of our lungs in the rain.

I rode up and down this road in a loader bucket on the front of a John Deere.

This road is where our dog Tory died.

My bike pedal fell off on this road while I was standing up to gain speed - part of my shoulder is still in this rock.

The landmarks on this road included the "green tank" and the "dirt road".

I raced my brothers here, and always won, as I recall.

Rhonda and I played "Little House on the Prairie" on this road and never imagined that Laura Ingalls Wilder didn't have this exact view.

Whenever I left home I drove this road first.

When I came home this was the last stretch of the journey.

This road was my address until I was 18.

Most of my childhood memories are centered around Larsen road.

I never understood that this road was different than any other. It's really a road to no where. The only reason anyone would drive on this road is if they were coming to visit my parents or an Aunt or Uncle - unless, by chance, they were lost. This road is a dead end - but it was my beginning. I wish that my children had a road just like this road. We weren't restricted by "boundaries" of how far we were allowed go, but rather by sheer distance of how far we COULD go. I never realized how wonderful I had it - growing up on miles of private blacktop. I could ride my bike or roller skates for HOURS and never share the road. If someone happened to pass me I HAD to wave - because 99 times out of 100 it would be a relative and we knew the other person too. Now I live in a subdivision. There are a lot of things I PREFER about this kind of living, but the road isn't one of them. I'm glad I had Larsen Road.