0 0 0 0W ..00 Wednesday, February 7. 200' , - -a. < 5 B University graduates are hightaiting it out of the tired city of Detroit, seek- ing farme and fortune in bigger cities like Chicago. But in their rush fr the border, they're rmissing worlds along the way. By Rob Migrin I Daily Staff Writer f you're graduating, chances are you have plans to move somewhere more glamorous than Michigan. And fast. Countless new University degree- holders are fleeing the state for big cities, but by putting their careers on the fast track, they're missing everything else along the way. As students head straight to law firms after graduation, fewer are joining the Peace Corps, volunteering or heading to Europe to find themselves. That internship might be a quick way to get where you're going, but the final destination isn't always as fulfilling. The highway to Chicago is an alluring path for many students. A car speeding down 1-94 away from Tiger Stadium toward the Windy City is exactly where many students picture themselves after graduation. But before the giant highway existed, a smaller road, US-12, served as the main route to Chi- cago. The route began as a foottrail named the Great Sauk Trail. It slowly widened as settlers began to travel south of Michigan more extensively. The road was paved in the 1920s, designated as a highway in 1926 and officially named US- 12 in 1961. It begins in Detroit as Michi- gan Avenue and runs almost directly to Chicago, then eventually to Washington State. Along the road lie towns even Michi- ganders have never heard of: New Buffalo, Three Oaks, Galien and White Pigeon, which blend into a dull blur out the win- dow, lend character and color to a drive down US-12. People in each town call the road something different - in Coldwater, they call it Chicago. In Detroit it's Michi- gan Avenue. In some spots, it's called the Great Sauk Trail. In late December, dozens of Stryofoam snowmen were leaning up against Stan- ley Johnson's trailer, which was parked in his front yard. Johnson lives in Irish Hills, about 45 minutes outside of Ann Arbor, in a house that looks directly over US-12. He was selling the snowmen for $5 a hit, but when I didn't have exact change, he gave me one for free. Johnson does OK business with travelers down the high- way, he said, but the highway is becoming increasingly less used as smoother and more direct expressways are paved across the state. He sells more snowmen in Ann Arbor to his co-workers at Mott Women's and Children's Hospital. In Sturgis, I stopped for a cup of coffee off the highway, which is also the main street of the town. The young man behind the counter looked at me scornfully when he saw I was reading the local Sturgis newspaper. Apparently even young people in the towns littered along the highway have a different destination in mind. Bigger cit- ies and brighter futures can be an effec- tive distraction to anyone - especially if you're living in Detroit or Sturgis. He tossed me a copy of The Chicago Tribune. "Here, you can read a real paper," he said. TOP: A few blocks away from the eastern terminus of US-12, Michigan Avenue and Cass Street. ABOVE: The Prehistoric Forest in the Irish Hills was once a tourist attraction for many travelers on the highway. The park is now closed and has been on sale for several years. FAR LEFT: Stanley Johnson and his son Tyler stand by their trailer on the side of US-12. The trailer was filled with snowmen Johnson was selling to passersby. He says he does better business with his co-workers at the Motts Chilren's Hospital in Ann Arbor. His generosity might keep him from turning a significant profit though - he said he's not completely averse to giving snowmen out for free. LEFT: This book store in Allen, Mich. claims to have more 102,000 used books. Although the main part of the store was closed for the season, a separate, smaller shop was open. The "Honorbooks" sectionof the store is serve-yourself, with a jar where people can leave money for the books they take.