roads several times a season, leveling off the corduroy ridges and filling in the potholes.

Traveling was at a much slower pace than it is today. A prominent farmer from Panmure Island had one of the early Model A or Model T cars. One day while crossing the Panmure causeway, the father, sitting in the passenger seat, asked his adult son, at the wheel, how fast they were going.

“I can’t look, Poppa. I’m driving. You look.”

The father checked the primitive Speedometer in front of him and said, “You’re going fifteen, boyo. You’d better slow down!”

In winter, the long, narrow roads quickly filled in with drifting snow and became impassible. Modern snow