Rolling Down Highway 460

I have been ridiculed on more than one occasion for the circuitous routes I take in pursuit of a scenic journey.

Case in point, the route that I take to the Outer Banks is a combination of newer, fast roads and back roads.

For me, 64 is almost as soul-sucking a road as I-95, so I spend only a couple of miles on the former and none on the latter.

Part of the reason for my route is the scenery, of which Route 460-East has an abundance, like the Melody Inn Motel and further along, a hand-painted sign with a big arrow, spelling out REST-ARAUNT.

And then there's the small-town eating options.

A friend was driving down following me caravan-style and I'd warned him in advance that if he wanted to follow, I'd be stopping at Adams Country Store for lunch for a sandwich.

That was my fair warning that if he was one of those press-on type travelers, he'd be better off not trying to follow me, but he was game.

Walking into Adams, the owner (Son) asked how I was doing.

Hot, I told him, but a sandwich was going to make me feel so much better.

"Mayo or mustard?" he asked, moving behind the case of pig.

No other questions were necessary, because you're going to get a country ham sandwich on white bread, so condiments are the only variable.

As he was wrapping it up, I grabbed a bottle of RC Cola from the case.

Gotta have my sweet to balance all that salt.

Talking to the owner, Son (an older man), and his Daddy (a much older man) was a delightful prelude to lunch.

I asked how long they'd owned the store (1961) and Son pointed to where the floor changed from one wood pattern to another.

"Used to be a dance hall next door. Daddy took down that wall and made it one big space and they used to have a dance here every Saturday night. We sold beer. Boys from Waverly and Wakefield would have fights out back about different girls."

I looked over at the beautiful hardwood floor that so many locals had shaken a leg on.

"So I could dance over there on that dance floor?" I asked the two men sitting amongst wooden crates of pork jowls.

"What kind of band do you want?" Daddy asked me enthusiastically. "Swing, bebop?"

I feel fairly certain that he was willing to find the music to have a girl dance on that floor today.

It was pretty sweet.

My friend and I took our sandwiches and drinks outside to eat on a stone table and benches under a huge, old tree.

The cornfield was just beyond the out buildings, which were full of ancient-looking farm tools and signs.

That RC Cola went down like a long-forgotten childhood memory, which is exactly what it was.

And that salty ham with nothing but mustard and white bread around it was probably just what the Waverly and Wakefield boys would have eaten back in the day, to keep up their energy for dancing and fighting.

I'm so not a fighter and you'd be hard-pressed to find a man who could truthfully say I've danced with him, but for anyone having a tough time understanding why I drive back roads, the answer is simple.

Country ham sandwiches and RC Cola in the shade of a big old tree...because that's the way to start vacation.