COLUMN: Logan – Utah’s hot spot
Over the course of my college experience thus far, I have had the opportunity to travel and explore some of northern Utah’s finest, well … not cities, so much, as sporadic houses and farms along the highway with their own name.
I could have never imagined going to Brigham City so many times for any reason other than to get gas to go to another city, but college has been full of surprises. Among other reasons, “Peach Days” was just one of my many fun-filled trips to Brigham City. Besides the endless supply of roadside fruit, I was very pleasantly surprised at the amount of Utah hair to be admired, and admire we did.
Another of northern Utah’s hidden treasures is a place most commonly referred to by non-locals as “Mantooah.” I am very disturbed by its actual pronunciation, which is “Manaway” for those who happen to speak English rather than gibberish. (My apologies to anyone who might actually speak this rare Utah dialect.)
When I walked into Mantua’s strikingly “Little House on the Prairie”-style courthouse, I expected to maybe sit down for a few minutes while my friend wrote out a check for her speeding ticket, but I was wrong, very wrong. After two full hours of hearing people proclaim their innocence regarding various speeding offenses, and listening to not one, but two different people say, “Yeah, I guess I forgot to get a permit to go four-wheelin’ on Main Street,” we could finally escape.
While I will give Mantua credit for its historically accurate architecture, that may have been the only part of my stay that I did enjoy. With this, I strongly urge you to conform to the Utah driving standard of going at least five under the speed limit, most likely in the passing lane, while passing through Mantua. Though you might feel offended by this comment now, you will thank me later.
Another of my daring excursions was caused by my desperate need for winter clothes and shoes, or at least that is the excuse I gave myself for buying anything even slightly winterish. One of my friends, upon moving from out-of-state to Logan, suffered a major downgrade in shopping options and opportunities. Out of respect for her loss, I will refer to the local “mall” not as that, which it is most commonly and naively referred to, but by a more appropriate term: The Cache Valley Indoor Shopping Facility, or CVISF.
Though I was not thoroughly disgusted by the CVISF, the desire for extended shopping possibilities drove me elsewhere in pursuit of more … something more. More was not far away, in fact a good 45 minutes of being surrounded by Utah drivers was all it took. OK, I’ll admit that I was actually in the car of a Utah driver at the time, but she dared to go against the norm and was quite impressive in her flawless use of the blinker and passing lane. Well done, Holly, well done.
What we found, even after hours of desperate and determined digging, were the same things we could have bought in Logan at the CVISF. But just when we thought we had made the journey out of our new home in Logan for nothing … bull’s-eye. Yes, the familiar red bull’s-eye of our beloved Target, also commonly pronounced as Tar-jay. I hadn’t realized how much I took Target at home for granted until I was asked to set things aside in the dressing room because my items had exceeded the limit. It was a harsh reality, but I faced it bravely at the cash register with a long-forgotten Target gift card.
Through all of my extensive Utah travels, I have learned many valuable lessons. Though I am unable at this time to actually pinpoint any of those lessons I’ve learned, I have discovered a new-found love for this little place we like to call Logan. I have found that Logan, when compared to other northern Utah hot spots, even despite its ridiculous unprotected left turns, is a place that all of us can and should be proud to call home.
Lindsay Kite is a freshman majoring in print journalism. With questions, comments or if you are also disturbed by Mantua’s pronunciation, contact lindsaykite@cc.usu.edu.