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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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