MULTIPLE ALABAMA HIGHWAYS – It’s dark out here, but it’s pretty.
We’re cutting through South Alabama on our way to the Florida Gulf Coast, taking off after work to squeeze one more night in.
We left our Montgomery suburb right as the last strands of sunlight stretched over the horizon, headed down through places like Carter Hill, Kinston, Elba, and others.
In fact, our last glimpse of a metropolis was a stop at the Chick-Fil-A in Troy. Since then it has been moonlight and highways. And not as much of the former.
It reminds me of my days covering high school football, especially when I had to cover small town schools. Lonely, winding highways with nothing keeping you company but the radio and the lights of your dash, and nothing protecting you but how far your high beams stretch.
But that casts a ominous shadow over a Southern Highway at night. It’s not all bad. Maybe a little spooky during stretches of woods, but there’s something comforting seeing lights on in the houses that dot the country highways.
We pass through the towns of Jack and the aforementioned Elba and Kinston. Schools are darkened and the stadiums too; it seems like the teams are as on the road as we are. We pass by small country churches with their marquees the only thing lit, as well. It’s so interesting to me to see places known for being community staples closed and in a resting state. Everything looks, well, asleep.
The longer we go, the more frequently the lights in the homes are turned out for the night. The difference between us heading for a place that will be hustling and bustling into the night in our car, and these people at home, in routine, completely still and asleep gives me cause for wonder. These are just map dots for us, but for these people, this is home.
We pass it all. Fields, crops, resting tractors, barns, you name it. And deer. Good grief at the deer. I wish I could see this many from my hunting stand. A few pointed and laughed at me as we went by.
We hit the Florida line, and it’s still remote, but not as quaint. Nothing against Florida, but its country is not the same kind as Alabama or even the other Southern states. More sand, more palm trees, less fields.
We close in on the coast and start seeing lights from the bay. Our trip through the country is done, and our temporary beds await.
It was a long drive, but seeing the world after it turns in for the night is a beautiful thing.
Dark, but pretty.
The Kudzu is a weekly column covering everything Southern, including highways at night.
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