Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Halfway through life, roads remain untraveled

By J. FRANK LYNCH
jflynch@theCitizenNews.com

I finally drove down Lynch Road on the far side of Brooks one day last week, after spotting it hanging off the bottom of a county map some time ago.

There’s no family connection in the name, if you were wondering. I suppose my curiosity to locate Lynch Road stems from the same latent desire that compels kids to make off with street signs bearing their names (Tiffany Drive! Trevor Trace!) to hang in dorm rooms. But it’s 20 years too late for that, and besides, I never lived in a dorm room.

So I just took a picture of the road sign to show where Lynch Road flows, like a river, into Mask Road. Gravel roads don’t really intersect.

Lee Hearn, chief of the county’s road department, estimates there are 60 miles of unpaved roads remaining in Fayette County, mostly around Brooks. Mask Road accounts for at least three of them.

Of course I had heard the Mask name. I’m even related to some, distantly I think, but until recently I had never driven the road. I didn’t know Fayette County had a Lynch Road, and you probably didn’t know either.

There’s good reason.

To drive the short length of Lynch Road in Fayette County, you need to travel for a spell down Tri-County Road, which starts in Coweta, until you cross over into Spalding County.

Make a steep left (or right, depending) onto Tri-County, carefully cross over the 2x4 plank bridge spanning the dry creek bed, and be on the lookout for the abandoned trailer home on the left (it didn’t look lived in to me, at least).

Hang another left, and you’ll be heading back home via Lynch Road in no time, as long as you don’t slide off into the ditch.

Up ahead to the right, a familiar green sign announced “Fayette County.” Topping it was a blue reflective sign declaring “Emergency 911!”

This being Fayette’s southern border with Spalding County, the road surface improved only slightly when I finally popped, pinged and clanged my way across the imaginary line between the two, passing an ancient concrete piling stuck in the ground that said “Fayette” and “County” on two sides and “Spalding” and “County” on the opposite.

Glad to be home again, I crunched the Honda over the thin layer of Tyrone granite spread across the red Georgia clay, and saw the words “Reduce Speed Ahead.”

What? I was barely going 15 mph! And have you ever tried to quick-stop going 15 mph on loose gravel?

“Speed Checked by Detection Devices” was the next admonition, and I thought to myself, “Surely the county sheriff has more profitable locations for speed checks.”

(While I’m thinking it, they could film a whole season of “Dukes of Hazard: The Next Generation” down here and not have to change a lick.)

The only familiar county line landmark missing upon my lonely, isolated, bumpy crossing into Georgia’s wealthiest county was one of those “Starr’s Mill High School State Champs ...this or that.”

I suppose there’s not enough traffic entering Fayette via Lynch Road to justify the expense to Panther boosters.

So having sped up to the legal limit of 25 mph, and thinking my engine was going to rattle itself loose and fall to the ground at any moment, I considered this triumphant entry across the dusty county line, the umpteenth I must have made in my life, and felt contentment.

It wasn’t so much the name of the road (the Spalding County end of it was something else I can’t remember).

Instead, it was the comfort of knowing there remains a country lane I’ve never met right here in the place I’ve always called home, one that leads through towering forests and past pristine green fields. It’s the home address to about a half dozen families, one of which has built a quaint English cottage complete with a painstakingly lavish garden.

Though it was my first adventure coming home via rural Lynch Road, I didn’t feel like a stranger. After all, my family has been in Fayette County for eight generations.

And there must be two dozen roads just like Lynch Road scattered around Fayette’s perimeter, sneaking folks across the county line in between the state routes (85, 54, 74, etc.) and the county-maintained roads you know (Rockaway, McDonough, Castlewood).

When they came through with the federal highways, we were deemed unworthy. U.S. 41 went wide around us to the east; U.S. were deemed unworthy of federal highways, and later the interstates bypassed us too, praise the Lord!) and the roads you’ve heard about (Rockaway, Tyrone-Palmetto, McDonough, Hampton).

Each says, “Welcome home,” in a unique voice. Each is a gateway to our community, and tells a little about who we are.

In Peachtree City, they are making a big deal out of the redevelopment of Ga. Highway 54 West, creating a fitting “gateway” for visitors arriving for the first time. I’m sure it will be Disney-esque once complete, very Peachtree City.

But what of Fayette County’s other “gateways,” like Lynch Road? What do they say about who we are, and the place we live?

I suspect they speak volumes if we listen.

Recently, I bought a Fayette County map and tacked it to the wall. Starting at the top where Hwy. 85 meets Riverdale, I began noting all the various roads that will get you here, from one county to our county.

I thought there would be 15, maybe 20 Fayette County “gateways.” Boy, was I way off. But I’m going to visit each one. I’ll take pictures and share the adventure along the way.

And if you know of your own, quiet, special “welcome home” route, let me know about that, too.

Now, if you’ll pardon me ... the next road beckons.