I grew up in a town that was so backward people had old horses up on blocks in the yard. The wrong side of the tracks was on both sides all the way through town. The funeral parlor was in the back of the hardware store and the post office was at the grocery.
My father went to the building supply store and asked for a dozen two-by-fours. Two guys picked up a crosscut saw and a double-bitted axe and said, "Have a seat. This won't take long."
The train came to town every day. But they got tired of backing up all the way back to Lexington, so they discontinued service. After they built the highway, a bus came by sometimes, but only when the driver was lost. The mail was always late. That mailman's mule was the stubbornest critter alive. But justice prevailed and the mule drowned in a puddle on main street. Traffic was not a problem. Half of the cars in town wouldn't run and the other one didn't run very well. Then the preacher, the judge, the sheriff, and the mayor got a car. That made a total of two running cars and it was gridlock. That's when they put up the traffic light. Nobody had seen one before so it was purple and blue. That was in 1992. In 1993 a tornado went through and destroyed all the trailers. And that was the end of the town where I grew up.
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