As a veteran travel writer, sometimes my life feels like that “I’ve been everywhere” song, made famous to my generation by Johnny Cash. You know how it goes — “Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota,” and the list goes on.
In road-tripping the nation, I’ve learned, in my bones, that there’s a clear difference between a town that’s pretty and a town that’s worth the drive. The first kind is nice to pass through or spend a day. The second kind rearranges something in you — you leave with different expectations of what a small town can do. Of how full life can feel in the right, small place.
