67 lines
3.7 KiB
HTML
67 lines
3.7 KiB
HTML
<!DOCTYPE html>
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<html lang="en">
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<head>
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<meta charset="UTF-8">
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<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
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<title>The Routes I Drive | Belinda Barnes</title>
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</head>
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<body>
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<header class="hero">
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<h1>The Routes I Drive</h1>
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<p class="tagline">Macomb County Arteries</p>
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<p class="location">32 Years of Daily Navigation</p>
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</header>
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<nav class="menu">
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<a href="/">Home</a>
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<a href="/first-route.html">My First Route</a>
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<a href="/the-route-of-mistakes.html">The Route of Mistakes</a>
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<a href="/routes.html">The Routes I Drive</a>
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<a href="/painting.html">Watercolors & Jazz</a>
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<a href="/sourdough.html">The Sourdough Starter</a>
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<a href="/about.html">About Me</a>
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</nav>
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<main class="welcome">
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<section>
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<h2>Route 47-A • The Harrison Loop</h2>
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<p><strong>Length:</strong> 14.2 miles | <strong>Stops:</strong> 23 | <strong>Hazards:</strong> I-75 merge, railroad crossing at 8:42 AM</p>
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<p>Begins at the Warren Central depot, cuts north through Harrison Township, skirts the abandoned General Motors plant where rust blooms like iron flowers. The children on this route know the rhythm: brake squeal at the hill, the dip before the bridge, the way the light hits the water tower at exactly 7:18 AM.</p>
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</section>
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<section style="margin-top: 3rem;">
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<h2>Route 47-B • The Van Dyke Express</h2>
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<p><strong>Length:</strong> 18.7 miles | <strong>Stops:</strong> 31 | <strong>Hazards:</strong> Construction zone (seasonal), pedestrian bridge blind spot</p>
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<p>The route that taught me the map lies. Runs parallel to Van Dyke Avenue, crosses the railroad tracks three times. On fog mornings, the headlights of the oncoming trains look like stars falling backward. I count them.</p>
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</section>
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<section style="margin-top: 3rem;">
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<h2>Route 52-C • The Clinton River Run</h2>
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<p><strong>Length:</strong> 22.1 miles | <strong>Stops:</strong> 28 | <strong>Hazards:</strong> Ice bridge variance, deer corridor at mile marker 7</p>
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<p>Follows the Clinton River southward. In January, the river freezes in patches—blue-black glass under the roadbed. I watch the expansion joints. They sing before they crack. This route carries the children of Mount Clemens, Port Huron's cousins, whose ancestors walked the same ice.</p>
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</section>
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<section style="margin-top: 3rem;">
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<h2>Winter Protocols</h2>
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<ul style="padding-left: 1.5rem; color: var(--fg-muted);">
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<li>Tire pressure checked at 3:30 AM, adjusted for thermal contraction</li>
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<li>Sand bags positioned on passenger floor, left side</li>
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<li>Brake lag increased by 0.8 seconds per degree below freezing</li>
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<li>Emergency stops rehearsed weekly, November through March</li>
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</ul>
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</section>
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<section style="margin-top: 3rem;">
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<h2>The Unmapped Paths</h2>
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<p>Some roads appear only when needed. The gravel shortcut past the old quarry when Route 24 floods. The service road behind the library when the main gate jams. These are not on any official sheet. They exist in muscle memory, in the callus on my thumb where it rests on the gear shift.</p>
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<a href="/">← Back to Home</a>
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