Finally, though, there is probably no better way to locate and explore the particular pleasures of an area than simply to set out on a drive. For all the years I've lived in this state, and all the driving I've done here, I am still finding new roads. For me, the experience of a good drive is like watching a movie. Maybe that happens everywhere, but especially in the country, where a road is more than the shortest distance between two points, and where every other household is selling something - hooked rugs or tomato plants or night crawlers. Out here in the country, every fork in the road represents a choice, and there is no way, besides following instinct, to know which turn to take.
Old houses are a good clue, and so are indications of water ahead.
In the end, it's anybody's guess whether a dirt road will lead to somebody's hand-carved whirligigs or a trailer park, a farm stand with cinnamon buns still steaming, or the town dump. For me, even the wrong turns and dead ends are part of the adventure - doubling back, trying again and then finally, when a spot looks really promising, pulling over and getting out. Or maybe there will be a path into the woods. Those are the best. Sometimes they lead to nothing, of ourse, but sometimes they lead, say, to a brook, and you follow the brook to a swimming hole, where there will be moss, and ferns, and wild strawberries and a shallow place with watercress growing, maybe, to cut and put into your sandwich.