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The Florida of My Youth – Highways and Byways
By Franklin Price
10/17/2019

The highways and the byways of Brevard when I was young
Were void of any four lanes, no interstates among
Highway 50, was the only road that went out to the west
Orlando just a little town, where Christmas shopping was the best

In Cocoa was the river road, was US 1 back then
A wooden bridge crossed to the Island and brought us back again
The bridge out in the middle turned around to let boats through
The gates came down to stop the cars, now all of that is new

Merrit Island had no Merritt Square. There was no place to shop.
The road east went out to the waves, the tourists did not stop
We drove out to the ocean where the road turned into beach
When the tide was right, we drove there, erosion's put that out of reach

There was no place for missiles, no fire in the air
The barge canal was not yet dug, there was no passage there
When finally dug and working, a barge let autos cross
Was swung around when needed. The moving boats were boss.

The road north on Merritt Island was known a State Road 3
Now it's known as Tropical Trail, not what it used to be.
Courtenay's now the main road north that goes to KSC
It's four lanes wide and has a bridge for moving you and me

My mother shopped for all our food at Cocoa grocery stores
The A&P and Piggly Wiggly were the ones, and are no more
She watched her nickels and her dimes to feed our hungry lot
We ate some great creations that she made in pan and pot

There were no fast food places, if there were we could not go
We were rich in loving family but not in money so,
We had to eat all that she made or she would often say
People starving now in China, be grateful that you eat today

My mother never drove a car was not something that she did
Said she tried it once, and hit a tree, when she was just a kid
My father drove us when we went, on pavement, sand or muck
My favorite car, we ever had, was a canvas covered truck.

There was a bench seat in the front was only good for three
My dad, of course, the driver, my mother shotgun, then was me
The others sitting in the back, no seats, no straps to hold
Cannot do that any more, but, then again, this story's old

When I was old enough to drive, not the same as when a child
Cape Canaveral launching missiles, and the traffic gone wild
Too many people moving in to support the race for space
The roads that we grew up on, were then so out of place

I remember that the traffic from the Air Force base to town
Was beaten by our track team when rush hour came around
That's when changes had to happen, the roads could cope no more
What you see now is what happened, to detail is a bore
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