Dad replied, “Yeah, and it’s easy to get lost out here. Instead of coming to nice, square corners like in the Midwest, these little country roads snake all over the place. And they’ve got screwy names, like Seek-No-Further Pike.”
I perked up at the mention of pike. Catching walleyed and northern pike was my specialty. So were puns. “Seek-No-Further Pike? Is that what they called Zebulon when he retired from exploring, or does it mean the fishing season’s over?”
My double pun got double the usual groan from my parents.
“Seek-no-further was the name of an apple grown around here a couple of centuries ago,” Mom explained.
“And it’s pike as in turnpike, Lars. Seek-No-Further Pike is the road that goes past Penncroft Farm,” Dad went on. “It runs all the way to Valley Forge. By the way, Cass says there are bike paths and picnic places up there now. Seems ironic to go to Valley Forge for fun, though.”
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