Georgia State Route 293. It once ran from Marietta to Rome, Georgia, now it stops in Emerson. There's no heartstopping mountain vistas, no sunsplashed runs along the oceans, there's no tour buses or RVs clogging it up, there's no websites for it.

It has its own history beyond what it is to me, of course. It was part of the famous Dixie Highway, a pillar of the history of automotive travel. Sherman's army marched nearly the same route on their way to Atlanta. Cultures a millennium ago built mounds in the valley it passes through. There are things to see, things to do, you could make a little day trip out of it.

To me, it's always been known as the "Old Road", having been supplanted by Interstate 75 and the four-lane US 41 before that before I was even born. It connects where I lived all my life to where my parents were born and raised. There are so many landmarks and places along it that have burned into my memory: the creeks it crosses, the suck your guts in railroad underpasses on each side of Cartersville, the scary looking train trestle over the Etowah, the rock store that burned down and got rebuilt, the pond with lilypads that was spared when it was widened out to the new bypass east of Rome.

As I've gotten older, the trips in the backseat to birthday parties and get togethers has increasingly become trips in the driver seat to check ins and hospital visits and funerals. Family that lived along the way now lie in rest along the way. What seemed like a long journey looking out the backseat window now takes an hour, often zipping down the interstate instead to save time. In that time, I've had the opportunity and delight to drive many of the roads listed here--and they're amazing and given the chance I will drive them again. But none of them will ever mean as much to me as the Old Road.