Husband Dan and I have just returned from a four-week road trip. Don’t stop reading, this is not a “What I did last summer” essay. It is also not a blow-by-blow account of the scenery. This is about small surprises, regional differences in everyday life, the incredible diversity and the comforting sameness we found as we traveled cross-country back roads from Tennessee to San Francisco and back again. I’ll start with an intriguing man we met.

Joshua Boyd, former jockey

While we were eating breakfast one morning in Loredo, Texas, the man seated close to us had on a vest that said World Championship NCHA. When the man noticed my interest, he explained that the initials stand for National Horse Cutting Association, otherwise known as Futurity. Seeing my blank look, he explained that this association holds competitions where equestrians ride trained American Quarter Horses whose work is to cut one or more cattle out of a herd. He explained that the horse does all the work, and the rider may only apply light pressure from the knees.

The man’s name was Joshua Boyd and, as we continued our conversation, Dan and I learned that up until he was 30 years old, Joshua had been a jockey. Unfortunately, during a close race, with other horses within inches of him and his horse, Joshua’s horse stumbled, throwing him under the feet of four horses and causing such physical damage that Joshua was not expected to live.

Many surgeries and four years of physical therapy later, Joshua was back in the world, minus the sight in one eye and the occasional seizure. He went on to teach, mainly at the college level, subjects related to agriculture, a subject my father taught and about which we had several agreements. It was a satisfying, educational conversation and the three of us parted with contented proof that the world still contains fascinating things and people who have the strength and determination to overcome obstacles put in the way of their life pursuit.

By setting up our Garmin Navigation to avoid traffic, we often traveled across land with cattle guards but no fencing. These areas were posted as Open Range roads, a caution to motorists to watch for free-range livestock. Rocking along the rough ranch roads, we occasionally dodged cattle, sheep and once, a roadrunner. At one point we drove 14 dirt road miles, straight into the heart of New Mexico. Away from billboards and commerce, we felt we were natives in that beautiful state, feeling the depth of those blue skies and the hard agricultural work needed to live off the land.

We chose a different back roads chart on our return trip and one day, right at dusk, we entered the Los Padres National Forest. The road quickly became rough and soon began climbing ever higher into the mountains. As darkness fell, we were the only vehicle on the road, did not have cell phone reception and weren’t sure how far we would have to travel before finding lodging for the night.

We crept through a large, dense cloud bank, exited the other side, and finally, thankfully, began descending the mountain range. After about an hour we saw lights in the distance and were grateful to find lodgings for the night. Los Padres had been a mysterious, incredible ride and we were happy to have ridden it and happy to be off of it. Backroad traveling holds adventures and beauty, but at times is not for the faint of heart.

Traveling is exhausting fun, full of adventure and sometimes peril. Stay tuned for next week’s journey to the Mojave Desert, northern California’s coast, and a funny/not funny encounter in a California ER.

Cindy Arp, teacher/librarian, retired from Knox County Schools. She and husband Dan live in Heiskell.