“It was one of those roads which lead out of Washington, and also into Washington, that depending on the way one is going or coming. Many main roads near Washington have this dual character or dual direction. It was one of those gray, level, shadeless roads, bordered by signs, gas stations and ice cream, and sausage refectories which nearly all of us have come to call a good road. It was without the virtues and the charm of a bad road.
Once it was called a quiet way, going down a hill to a ford where a stream sang above yellow sand and white pebbles and then climbed another hill between banks draped with green briar, trumpet, honeysuckle and Virginia creeper. There were graceful bends in the road and every few yards an oak or a pine of solemn dignity laid its shade across the way. But progress put its hand upon this road and made it good and homely.”
Evening Star, “Suspicions of Rambler Are Aroused By One Who Calls Him ‘Brother.'” July 6, 1924, p. 69. By the “Rambler,” John Harry Shannon.