Getting Our Kicks on Route 66

“The Mother Road”, “The Main Street of America”, “America’s Highway”…all have been used to describe Route 66, the first road connecting America from one end (almost) to the other. It didn’t begin in New York or Boston (as it seemingly should have…), but originated in Chicago and ran all the way to California (one block from the Santa Monica pier in LA), inspiring stories, road trips and TV shows for a generation. It was a pathway for immigrants to make their way west, depression-era families to search elsewhere for a new life and free spirits to head out in their Corvette for adventure. Its heyday lasted until Dwight Eisenhower, impressed by the German autobahns during World War II, decided to implement a US system of interstate highways, replacing Route 66, which wound through too many small towns to be enlarged.

Our first exposure to Route 66 was in Illinois, and we’ve crisscrossed it several times since then. Leaving Kansas last week, we met up with it again in Tulsa OK (after visiting Frank Lloyd Wright’s one-of-a-kind skyscraper situated in Bartlesville OK, home of the Phillips 66 Petroleum Company). We snaked our way through the Cherokee Nation lands in Tahlequa OK, where the “Trail of Tears” forced march of Indians ended. Our government at the time magnanimously decided that the Indians would benefit from leaving their desirable tribal homelands in Virginia, the Carolinas and Florida to “free” (unwanted, barren ) land in Oklahoma and essentially forced them to go there at gunpoint, with nearly a quarter of them dying along the route.

Going from one tragedy to another, we then made our way towards Oklahoma City to see the poignant memorial there, commemorating the 1995 bombing of the Murrah Federal Building. It is a moving site and reminded us yet again of how much anger, hatred and sadness there is in the world. The National Cowboy Museum on the northern outskirts of town gives a fascinating insight into all that is cowboy, including about 1,000 different barbed wire samples, plus rodeo exhibits, artwork, clothing, statues, weaponry, hero worship and much more. Definitely worth a couple of hours and made us realize what tough hombres we aren’t.

We followed the old Route 66 out of Oklahoma City towards Texas, marveling at how small and narrow it was in places, a two-lane rural road unchanged in over 75 years. The architecture of some of the unrestored gas stations and buildings was charming and nostalgic. A few had been restored to their original glory (or beyond) and shone like gleaming beacons; some are “new” kitschy structures which use the Route 66 connection as a business lure.

Before leaving Oklahoma, we stopped at the Route 66 museum in Clinton to see photos, artifacts and exhibits that told the story of the road’s importance to the development of the state. It’s fascinating to imagine what travel in the early days of motoring must have been like, before superhighways, motor homes and cell phones. We cruise along in the comfort and luxury of Mia, while in 1939, it was a bone-jarring, exhausting trip to follow the same route.

Entering Texas, we first visited the “Cadillac Ranch” in Amarillo, established by an eccentric local businessman who “planted” ten vintage Cadillacs into the ground along the old Route 66 as a beacon for travelers. Visitors are encouraged to spray paint graffiti on the now-decrepit carcasses of the vehicles. It makes a striking sight at sunset in the desert along Interstate 40 in Amarillo. Much, much more of the Lone Star State lies ahead.

We’re still having fun, learning something new each day while seeing the nooks and crannies of America. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone from Texas! Bob