There used to be this lumpy stone sticking out of the sidewalk right in front of my grandmother’s house, and I’m telling you, I would trip over it every single time I visited.

Like clockwork, no matter how hard I tried to remember it was there, I’d forget and bang my shin again. Every time it happened, I’d grumble and wonder why on earth that stupid rock was there in the first place. Sometimes I figured it was just leftover construction junk, and other times I wondered if maybe the universe was just messing with me, making sure I stayed humble. Honestly, both seemed equally believable at the time. But guess what?

Turns out that so-called “random rock” wasn’t random at all. It had a real, legit purpose, and once I found out what it was, I couldn’t help but think it was actually pretty cool. So here’s the deal: way back before the days of Ubers, Lyfts, and even Model T Fords, sidewalks had these stones for a very important reason. They weren’t construction leftovers and no, some clever raccoons didn’t roll them into place. Those stones were called carriage steps or mounting stones, and they served as makeshift platforms to help people get in and out of horse-drawn carriages without making a complete fool of themselves. Think about it—if you were wearing a corset, layers of petticoats, and some elaborate hat perched precariously on your head, the last thing you needed was to tumble out of a carriage in front of half the town. That sturdy chunk of rock? It was your saving grace

It let you step down with a little dignity instead of face-planting into the street. Basically, it was the MVP of the street corner before curbs and sidewalks became what they are today. And because humans are humans, it didn’t take long before people started to turn these practical stones into little status symbols. Some folks had their mounting stones custom-made with their initials carved in or fancy patterns etched into the surface. It was half function, half fashion flex, a bit like parking a shiny sports car in your driveway today. If your home had one of these fancy carriage stones out front, you were doing pretty well for yourself back in the day. No wheels, no engine, no fancy paint job—but still a very clear message of “I’ve got it together.”

So why do some of these stones still exist? Because nobody bothered to move them. They just became part of the scenery, blending in with the sidewalks and roads that were built up around them. People stepped over them, tripped on them (guilty again), and after a while, they turned into relics of a bygone era. In older neighborhoods, local historical societies have even started to treasure them, treating them like pages from a storybook of the town’s past. And honestly, I love that. In a world that’s constantly upgrading, tearing down, and rebuilding, it’s kind of heartwarming to see something old just sitting there, quietly minding its own business, reminding us of a slower, simpler time. Next time you spot one of those strange little stones sticking out of the sidewalk, don’t just brush it off as some random trip hazard. Think about it—someone 150 years ago probably used that exact stone to climb out of a carriage, maybe on their way to church or the market, leather boots scuffing against the rough surface. Maybe a kid scrambled up on it pretending to be a cowboy. Maybe it witnessed a first kiss, or maybe a farmer once hitched his horse next to it while he ran errands. That stone has seen things. It holds the footprints, the laughs, the worries, and the little victories of people who lived lifetimes ago. It’s not just a rock; it’s a breadcrumb from another century, a quiet whisper of history beneath your feet. And that’s what I love about it. It reminds me that the ordinary isn’t really ordinary at all. That lump of stone had a job. It helped people. It became part of their everyday lives. And now it’s here, letting me totally geek out over it in the best way possible. So next time you’re walking down an old sidewalk and you stub your toe on a random rock, maybe don’t curse it right away. Maybe thank it for still being here, for holding the stories it’s witnessed, and for reminding us that even the smallest things can have a pretty incredible story to tell.