Strange Landmarks
I grew up on a farm (more produce than livestock) in a tiny town in Northern California, near Chico if you know where that is. And yes, we do capitalize “Northern”. Driving to my house involves turning off of I-5 and then rolling through about 30 or 40 miles of nothing but flat rice fields. The only “town” you pass is a wide spot in the road where the local bar has a huge sign out front: “Ducks Plucked Here”.
One time I was driving up with a buddy from college and about halfway to the metropolis of my youth he turned and said, “I’m really glad I know you, because otherwise I’d be worried that you were taking me out to the middle of nowhere to kill me.”
Even better, a friend from long ago whose family left town just after we completed pre-school sent me the following regarding trying to visit the ranch thirty years later:
last summer i was on my way to warner valley and decided to detour through durham to show the girlfriend where i lived as a kid. on the way in i
recognized the old park and the canal that runs past your mom’s house. so we
took a left down the lane and thought i’d show her around. i was totally
unable to find/recognize your house. i used to navigate there on the basis
of one very important landmark: a goat tethered to a post on the right side
of the road - once you passed it, you had to start looking for a driveway on
the left hand side.without the goat, i’m afraid, i couldn’t find your house.
I am not making this up.
