Mike Maddock The state of Nevada has a stretch of road between Carson City and Ely it has affectionately dubbed the “loneliest highway in America.” My wife and I ended up on this road by accident about ten years ago. I have to admit the nickname is very accurate, because after we’d traveled a mile or so I really started to wonder if we had mistakenly stumbled into a nuclear bomb testing area.

Traveling this stretch of highway was like driving on the surface of Mars. There was nothing but desert, rocks, and the occasional tumbleweed to each side of the road.

But at least the experience was unique. I did it once and I doubt I’ll ever do it again. It was kind of like eating cauli-flower…something different, but unnecessary. If my wife and I had taken a correct turn in Carson City, we would have ended up in Reno and on Interstate 80 with the rest of the civilized world and never experienced America’s loneliest highway.

There is a stretch of road closer to home that may not be the loneliest highway in America, but it is almost certainly the most boring, and unlike the Nevada highway, it’s unavoidable to an extent. Just beyond the Waffle House near Lexington heading west to Atlanta lies almost three hours worth of four to six lane Valium.

I offer the segment of highway between Columbia and Atlanta known as Interstate 20 as evidence the country is not overdeveloped. Driving this road is like driving with pine tree blinders on. Pine trees to the left, pine trees to the right, and nothing but asphalt in between. It’s almost enough to make me pray for construction delays. Interstate 26 may be the land of the orange traffic cone, but at least there is something to look at. The most interesting thing I see on I–20 is the tar patterns resulting from filling cracks in the asphalt.

There are some fine towns along I–20 like Aiken and Madison, but I can’t ever seem to make them out through all the pine trees. The Savannah River is nice, and the Krispy Kreme at the Washington Street exit in Augusta is like some sort of desert oasis. But for the most part, it’s lofty pines and asphalt cracks until outlet stores on the outskirts of Atlanta start popping up like flowers of the civilized world.

I don’t drive to Atlanta often. My dad and I go to the Clemson v Georgia Tech football game there every other year, and while I look forward to the game, I start yawning just thinking about the drive. I mean we’re not talking about Reno to Wendover, NV here. Atlanta was home to the Olympics and Columbia is a state capital…not just a couple of casinos at the Nevada border. There should be more excitement on this drive than waiting for my dad to roll down his window and sending his Georgia Tech car flag bouncing down the road and into a ditch. That event is always amusing, but I wouldn’t call it scenery.

I propose legislation that Georgia and South Carolina get together and throw up a few billboards or at least get some decent radio stations. The civilized world does not have to end at the Waffle House.