Explore "Spring Came on Forever" by Bess Streeter Aldrich on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Neal was having the experience of a puncture a half-mile from home with the exasperating knowledge that he had taken the jack out to use for his father's car and failed to put it back. With a few choice epithets directed exclusively toward himself, he started down the highway toward home,--a paved highway now. And although he gave no thought to that fact, so used was he to it, if he had done so, he could have called the roll of the various periods through which that highway had progressed. Pathless prairie grass. Grassy road. Dirt road from which all sign of green had vanished. Graveled highway. Pavement. In the valley, the evolution of that road was the history of the people who lived beside it.
He had not gone but a few paces until a roadster drew up and a woman called to him. "Hello, hitch-hiker."