Gravel road

After he got to the other side of the road, he noticed a poster on the back side of the building. He took the poster off and just stared at it. It looked like there was a crime scene on it. What could it be, I thought? He crumpled it up and put it in his jean pocket, then he kept going to wherever

materials that are used to produce roadways is also on the rise [1]. There is a total of 2.7 million miles of paved roadway in the United States. The primary material for paving those roads is asphalt [2]. Asphalt is a material that consists of bituminous oil mixed with sand and gravel. Asphalt makes a good material for paving roads because it is cheap and easily accessible, however, it does have its downsides. Wet pavement clusters are sections of asphalt that become excessively slick after it rains. This

secrets. The island was magical, including everything that surrounded it. We lived in a hidden area that only the chosen could find. I remember my tan body gliding across the grass of our expansive front yard effortlessly carrying me across the gravel road to the mouth of the island’s entrance, leaving my palace behind me, awaiting my return. As I ran, I passed gardens of the most beautiful flowers, all of which my father knew by name. The two I was most captivated by were the Indian Paint Brushes

get here than she expected thanks to miles and miles of road construction that always seemed planned for the busiest times of the day. I wonder if the Department of Transportation does this on purpose to annoy commuters, snickering in secret behind our backs at their hoax. After cursing and getting lost several times following all the detour signs, she arrived at her destination—Glendara. The car idled at the beginning of the gravel road leading to her mother’s family home. This property had passed

It’s the grassy greens, near the winding pebbly road I remember first. The long stalks of spinifex still line the edges, though now neatly trimmed all around. The uneven crunch-crunch-crunch of the gravel as I drive my sunny Porsche across town. Even in winter, bindies pepper the half soccer field, other foliage: a bush dotted with withered yellow berries and emerging saplings surround the patchy lawn like spectators. Smack bang in the middle, winter clawing its way in, stands a grandiose resilient

Scared, excited, nervousness filled me and was now part of me as I stared at the dead crusty cat in the circle… “Come on!” I shouted to my friend Rebecca as I started panting like a dog. I stopped for her to catch up to me, I have to admit I was running the whole time so no wonder she was behind me. “I'm coming!” she exclaimed with a sigh of exhaustion and continued to trudge on through the poky cut down corn field heading towards the barn. This is going to be fun! I thought as I turned towards

Susan was a petite young woman with a meek exterior and a raging fire inside. It was a fire of excitement, of adrenaline and thrill seeking. Today, she sought to feed that fire. There was a rock wall, located in a sprawling state park, that boasted to be one of the most dangerous in the state. It ran along a powerful water fall and was not for the faint of heart. One might be surprised, by looking at her, that she would attempt such a thing. But she had conquered white rapids and triathlons, and

summer of 2012. My mom, my dad and I had made our way down to Bishop to visit my cousin and her family before hiking. Afterwards, we bade them farewell and drove to Boundary Peak. The way up was a gravely, rocky terrain that would barely qualify as a road. Our Jeep still has faint scratches that a few branches left on the side doors as we drove up. Parking in a flat, dirty area, we had finally made it to the trailhead of Boundary Peak. There are many pointers people need to know when someone goes hiking

Deja Hiserote, is my best friend; she lives down the road from me in Red Scaffold, which is in the middle of nowhere. The town where I go to school and where all my other friends, Dupree, is nearly fifty miles from my house. To get to Red Scaffold, you have to go down south of Dupree on Cherry Creek Road; about halfway to Red Scaffold the road begins to curve first one way and then the other and you have to be very careful because it is a gravel road and you might find yourself in the ditch. Last November

 "The Road Not Taken” Robert Frost's poem “The Road Not Taken” describes a traveler faced with a choice of which one of two roads to travel. He knows not where either road might lead. In order to continue on his journey, he can pick only one road. He scrutinizes both roads for the possibilities of where they may take him in his travels. Frost's traveler realizes that regret is inevitable. Regardless