This Podunk Town

Christina and I dreamed of getting out of our hometown for so long that I really don't remember a time when we were content in Bangor.  We felt like we would overdose on peace and quiet and hickness.  Excitement and drama is what we lacked, and why we wanted out.

And yet, when she moved during college, I longed for the days when I could do the following:

1. Give her a call and say, "Yo, I'm comin' over."
2. Hop in my car
3. Be at her house in eight minutes.

I timed it a lot.  Once, I made it in seven.  It was only once though. 

Most of the time there were deer in the way.  Or cows.  Or horses.  A variety of wildlife (and tame life) inhabit the woods between the little farm house on Fox Gap Road and the log cabin on Million Dollar Highway.

It was really called Million Dollar Highway.  It was home to farms, some small and ill-kept homes, trailers, a nice house or two, and most importantly, the house that became a haven for me during my teenage years. 

I think I spent more time at Christina's house than I did my own when I finally got my drivers license.  The area between her house and Portland became our habitat.  We dined on shepherd's pie and scones at Union Jack's Cafe.  We looked at the antique shops full of pretty things we couldn't afford.  We ate ice cream every damn night at Kelly's.  We listened to the Monkees and the Beatles in the car.  My mom's car had a CD player, which was very awesome.

This tiny amount of freedom made our sixteen year old selves giddy, and we laughed the entire time. 

I still have the car, but I don't have the ability to see Christina whenever I want.  We can't go to Union Jack's, it flooded twice and closed.  Kelly's ice cream sucks now.  The little house on Million Dollar Highways belongs to strangers who chopped down the hedges.

Little things slip away as you get older, and then, big things.  It's a shame that Christina and I wished away our time in Bangor so often.  No one could have convinced us otherwise, though, when we were thirteen and hungry for city adventure.  It happened soon enough.