This is an opinion column

“This rocket was not built to withstand more than 40 years of continuous exposure to the elements of nature,” the statement read from NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center. “The support structure has deteriorated over the years, the damage is too significant to repair, and could potentially pose a structural safety issue if left in place.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little when I read that. Looking in the mirror this morning, I clearly have more in common with the famous rest stop rocket than I ever realized.

The 168-foot tall Saturn 1B has been one of the most iconic landmarks of my life. It is the only spot of I-65 where I haven’t been allowed to sleep during road trips for four decades. “Wake up!” my parents would shout as the rocket came into view. “Look out your window.” Occasionally we’d stop and check it out. I’m now the annoying parent waking up my sons.

A couple years ago, my family stopped to see the rocket, and I realized the toll time had taken. Up close, it’s clear that the structure is indeed falling apart. When I heard the announcement that the rocket must be removed, it was like hearing that an old friend has passed away. I called my friends at NASA to see if there was any hope, but then I realized it’s time.

The Saturn 1B is a monument to another generation’s excellence.

Even in its dilapidated state, the rocket is an impressive reminder of Americans who dared to reach the stars and landed on the moon. The dreams inspired by such success are my generation’s charge.

It’s a disquieting reality.

I lament the Saturn 1B coming down, because I wonder if we are capable of replacing it. Yes, we can find something of equivalent size, but the rest stop is far more important than its physical presence.

To borrow from President John F. Kennedy, what is our generational challenge “that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win?” Our craven political landscape is anything but inspiring. America’s most powerful leaders can’t get along enough to reasonably address issues like inflation, immigration, and competing in the global marketplace. When our eyes turn to our screens, we’re greeted with a nation that’s scratching, kicking, and clawing against itself.

Complaining and destroying will always be easier than dreaming and building. The rocket along I-65 routinely reminds me which path deserves my time, talent, and treasure.

Even as my old friend is retired, I remain hopeful.

On cold clear nights this winter, my sons and I look at the stars and let our minds wander. Occasionally, we’re treated to a speeding glimpse of the International Space Station. We talk about the challenges of traversing the seemingly infinite void. Their minds are blown with a discussion of absolute zero temperature.

The wheels keep turning even after our discussions.

Where I might have looked at an encyclopedia, they’re turning to folks like YouTuber Mark Rober to learn about physics, polymers, and sound waves. For my sons, thinking about producing massive amounts of clean energy isn’t a political cause, it’s simply an interesting problem that they might be able to solve. If they’re able to throw hunks of metal into space in the process, so be it.

“Dad, what do I need to learn to figure that out?” is a common question in my house. Dreams are what justify the hard work and pains of failure necessary to actually succeed. Our challenge is to inspire our children with what we accomplish. It lets them know that dreams are not a waste of time.

Physically replacing a rocket at a rest stop near the Tennessee border isn’t a challenge. The next generation roused from a road trip nap needs a new monument to inspiration. It should be nothing less than the product of a grand dream coming into view as our families drive along I-65.

Smith is a recovering political attorney with four boys, two dogs, a bearded dragon, and an extremely patient wife. He engages media, business, and policy through the Triptych Foundation and Triptych Media. Please direct outrage or agreement to [email protected] or @DCameronSmith on Twitter.