A hot bulletin from local radio announces a "stakeholder meeting" for one of our
Some 36 miles of interesting little roads wander through counties just south of me. The scenery is pretty, but of course no citizen has ever noticed that because they're unofficial, both scenery-wise and byway-wise.
The Rules clearly specify that commoners require government guidance to recognize pretty things, and at all costs they must not be left to their own devices in determining that a lonely, twisty, potholed, two-lane tarmac is the optimum route for driving to where they wish to be.
In case you can't make the meeting, permit me to summarize: At least three concerned people will "present." The official sign will be unveiled. A "light" meal will be served. (No, I don't know what's on the carte, but an entree of pureed dandelion blossoms is one of the likely candidates.)
Anyway, the announcement got me wondering. Who pays?
A Binger revealed that you do. Shocking, eh? This particular extortion mechanism is a federal Department of Transportation sub-bureau assigned to turn country roads into astounding national treasures. It seems to pay 80 per cent. I also wondered who gets to decide. And what the criteria are. Why, the federal experts on pretty things do, of course, and the criteria seem to be a little loose.
Our definition of "scenic" reaches beyond breathtaking vistas. All of America's Byways® are "scenic", representing the depth and breadth of scenery in America--natural and man-made panoramas; electrifying neon landscapes; ancient and modern history coming alive; native arts and culture; and scenes of friends, families and strangers sharing their stories.
I see. Wonderful. By that measure my driveway qualifies. It's in rough shape and doesn't go much of anywhere. Anciently, the native Americans certainly trod it. Wildlife still does,even if you don;t count New Dog Libby. The man-made panorama is stunning, vehicles parked organically, a lawn tractor resting naturally where it ran out of gas under a majestic cottonwood, the tenacious red cedars struggling for the sun from the pile of glacially deposited granite boulderettes.
It is indeed a candidate, and I hereby apply for funding to bring it to world attention as the Camp J 200-Foot Scenic Byway. I can probably get it all arranged for $100,000 -- signs. maps, advertising, PR counsel-- even including my own modest salary. Please forward your share, 80 big ones, and I'll get on it immediately.
'course, if you insist on a breathtaking panorama of electrifying neon signs, that will be a little extra.
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