The Lane Less Traveled

I miss Scotland.  I sit in the early dawn drinking good coffee and reading The Greatest Adventure Ever Told and think back on it.  It was a great ordeal for us, alone, often completely, just the vastness of her, the long views of wilderness that stretched to the Arctic, known as the NC500.  Even though we were never in peril, we were often very much alone to our own wits, a little VW we had early on named Ark and sincere prayers for safety being oft said aloud—to Him but to bolster us as well.  The single lanes as much trail as road.  I can remember one morning we had taken one over the upper highlands, a single lane, rising higher and higher into the wilds.  It was cold and windy and at one point I said to my lover, “It would be hopeful to see at least one car to know the way ahead is passable.”  At that very moment, a small truck came around the bend way ahead.  Humans brighten any lonely path, knowing even in our day of ultimate ease, the road less traveled is still being taken.