When I was small I wondered whether the colours that I saw were the same as the colours you saw. I wondered if what we both called blue was as blue to me, as it was to you. I asked my mother,” What if the green of your eyes is not the same green I see. What if I call it green but if YOU looked through MY eyes you would call it brown. How can I know that the green is really green?”
“What colour are my eyes?” she said.
“Green with gold flecks.” I said without even looking, as I crumbled the butter into the flour with my fingers as instructed.
“Well.” she said, raising my palms so only my fingertips were in the mixture ” Don’t let the butter get warm” She turned back to her own mixing bowl. “There you are then. Your eyes are blue and sometimes they are grey. Mine are green. Pass me the flour, celi”.
I still wonder though. Do we see things the same? And words. I say the word candle -do you think of light, or wax. If I say prairies do you think of neck high grasses or fields of corn. If I say Route 66 do you think of the sign or do you remember road trips anywhere with your Dad or do you think of the Great Depression? 
After reading your comments yesterday it became apparent that we all see the legend of Route 66 differently. Which is pretty exciting really. Because in it’s short life it created a lasting impression of anticipation.
So yesterday off we went on a recce to find a few beginning pictures of Route 66 for you. Then you can think about what you want to see before I take you on the longer drive today. ( The concrete mixer in my garden was getting scary anyway.) And Route 66 is only a hop, skip and a ‘jump on’ from here. After all Route 66 was 2448 miles long (that is about 4000km). There must have been howls of disappointment when the Myopic Federal Board of Roads or whatever they were called decided that it would no longer maintain it and handed it back to each county to look after and the lovely old road motored off into its own sunset.
Anyway, what aspect of The Mother Road takes your fancy. Do you want to see unusual tall plastic things?
Or the movie theaters, every little town had one.
Maybe the empty store fronts that line the main streets of these little towns.
Or the cars that were cruising the road back in the day. Remember back in those days the cars over-heated with monotonous regularity, tires went flat, belts broke, brakes failed and there was no air conditioning. Hot people and Hot cars -Horrors! So the vehicles needed as much attention as the travellers. And these old cars needed a lot of attention.
I suspect that this is why these little towns had so many gas stations and restaurants built in the fifties and sixties. These were farming towns before they turned into touring stations and stretched their financial rubber bands to breaking point. No working man had the money or time to go off on jaunts, who would milk the cow or attend to the fields and gardens. The notion of travel for travels sake was like a monster awakening in affluent America after the Second World War. Then touring became accessible to the middle classes.
Or the service stations. If Route 66 was an artery coursing across America then the service stations were pumping hearts strung along the way. Service stations popped up in droves and were almost always independently operated. There would be gas with a kid to pump it and wash your windscreen and check your oil and water, a mechanic with his head under a car and his wife behind the till. They often lived above or behind the station. Clean rest rooms were a new and brilliant idea and in high demand, so these new gas stations were built with FREE loos – open to all. In fact I heard a rumour that there were bathroom inspectors who toured up and down Route 66 making sure they were indeed clean and respectable. The mind boggles.
The restrooms were of paramount importance to the touring parties. The days of women having to ‘hold on’ for hours on end were over. Travelling women were liberated. Once the whole family could travel comfortably, longer distances were considered. I personally believe that this is where the saying America the Land of the Free comes from. Have you ever tried to find a free toilet in Italy, Or Portugal? Not a hope!
Or is it the the abandoned ghost road who attracts you, limping along beside your little modern cooking oil car, her cracked lips smiling – calling: don’t you worry, I’m still here! I may be a gardener of weeds now but these are my weeds! I am the legend.
One day, I am going to get out of the car and onto one of these ghost roads and just walk as far as I can. I guess then you might call me Forrest and bring me Chocolates!
Good morning. I have two periods of interest when I think of Route 66. Mine come from an older and even more original Route 66. Not the 50’s and 60’s of the post war boom and bright neon lights and huge purple cars, but back in the twenties and then on through the Great Depression. It was realigned a few times during its short life but many of these Original 66 roads still exist, running down the main roads and then through the older neighbourhoods of the towns. I search for the Road in the 20’s when the more affluent of the time toured about in their brand new Model A’s, packed to the gills with gas cans (petrol stations were few and far between in the beginning), staying in those beautiful old railway hotels (it seems to me that often Route 66 ran along close to railway lines ), their hats tied to their heads with scarves, their hip flasks and white shoes.
Then later, into the depression years, the drought, when hundreds of thousands of families lost their farms and millions their jobs, the bankers calling in their loans, the farmers walking off their land. So many of them packed everything into their trucks and drove west along Route 66 looking for work. And if you did not have a truck you walked the road looking for work. Route 66 became a mainline of hope looping with despair as people struggled doggedly across America, their faces covered in cloth, slogging through the flying dust, carrying their children, trying to escape the terrible dustbowl that their lands had become.
So this is how I see Route 66. These are the images I look for. America the land of Extremes. Two very different periods, from two totally different social stratas. What happened when they met on the road I wonder, when Boom met Depression just for a moment. This is my green with gold flecks.
What about you?
your friend with a camera, celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
40 responses to “A Route 66 Reconnoitre”
Thanks for your evocative post. The stretch of road with the weeds speaks volumes. Looking forward to your walk on a part of the ghost road. Musing on the importance of clean rest rooms and the idea of an earlier road than what I was thinking….thanks for your photographs.
i identify the route with the sign. i guess i knew in the back of my mind how abandoned it must be now, though seeing photos brings it all home. i always wanted to drive it to stop at the individual diners and try the local famous foods. you learn so much about people by seeing what the locals eat.
So … is it really more cost effective to build the new road right next to the old – rather than maintaining a bit of legendary history? Surely the old shops and petrol stations (with free loo’s) could be kept alive – if only for holidaymakers? Sigh … now I feel sad. Bah humbug to ‘progress’ 😦
Laura
Actually Laura, what they did was close one side of the road and maintain the other side. Route 66 was a precurser to the interstate, one side went West and the other side went East and there was a wide strip of grass in between to avoid accidents. When they downsized they turned one side back into a dual carriageway. Some were abandoned altogether. And in all honesty if people went and shopped in the old stores and petrol stations they would still be open. The people decided not to use them anymore. Progress indeed. And you are so right.. sad.. c
As a teenager I only knew Route 66 from snatches of the (Beatles?) song. I had no idea it was some kind of legendary road until I was an adult and started to realize there must be more to it.
Rolling Stones
Route 66 and the song that went with it…those where some great things.
Your writing here is brilliant C. The way you tied the story all together. It was a joy to read. I love the different perspectives on Route 66. The kids love the big giant plastic things. I love the old gas stations and main street towns. It certainly conjures many bygone images in my mind. I never really thought of it in the 20’s though. My mind goes to the 50’s and 60’s. All of it is so fascinating. 🙂
Good morning, c. My Route 66 is the “Original” road, the one that “Grandpa” walks in the stories and prose that I write. That’s the road that itched my imagination as a child traveling it in the 50s. The sky so wide you could lose yourself in it. Grain, silos, fields, flatness beyond definition, heat, dry and dusty heat – heat that scorched right through the car window and burnt your arm, and you couldn’t move far enough away from it because your little sister would bash your head in. But not plastic. Not green. I don’t recall green at all during that trip. Much love to you. xx
Good morning Celi; WOW! I now have a headache but that’s not your fault i was enthralled in reading the post you have such a way with words that i couldn’t stop reading. The way you described it , was the way my dad said it was. My grandpa was military; so the road was the way to go cross country. thanks for the memory. have a blessed day mike
Well that was all new to me, being in the UK. Lovely evocative pictures, and interesting history. Thank you.
This whole post is a poem. Thank you, Celie for sharing it with us. It reminded me forcibly of the painting GAS by Edward Hopper – http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/edward-hopper/gas Your photographs could just as easily be Hopper paintings!
Good Morning,
I know where to find girl for your Gemini guy. Vanna Whitewall hangs out in the south side of Peoria at a tire shop, in a bikini and heels. Sometimes in the winter they put her giant dress on her. She had “some work done” a few years ago and doesn’t look a day over 30 now. If he needs a buddy there is the hot dog guy that hangs out in Atlanta. If he needs a pet there is a giant rooster that lives in East Peoria complete with top hat. Or he could choose one of the numerous fiberglass beef cattle or pigs in Peoria but they would be like mini pets considering how tall he is.
I think of Route 66 as an adventure, places to see different from here, interesting roadside attractions now left to crumble, much more interesting than the interstates. I do associate it with the Depression dust bowl migration, the sadness, hopelessness and desperation of that time. It is sad that something so Americana has been replaced with better, faster roads. You miss so much zipping along at 70 mph on the most direct route On their honeymoon in the 1950s, my parents took Route 66 to California and back.
Oh as a sign of where and when I grew up, paying to use the bathroom is such a foreign concept to me. Now just to be polite, it was always best to make a small purchase if you used a business’ restroom.
Beautiful writing, Celi, and a great history lesson. All of those places and things — the cars, gas stations, farm buildings, movie theaters, and the road itself — had a life of their own. And like all life, they had periods of growth and decline. All we can do is enjoy what’s here and try to remember it when it’s gone. That’s what I got out of this excellent post.
And you are right, a fast rise like that will subside to a sustainable level just as fast. It is how life is. nothing can be static in nature… c
I think of the tv series Route 66. It ran every Friday night in the early 1960’s. They traveled across American in their Chevrolet Corvette convertible sports car. Over time and many years later we were able to find that same type of corvette, which is a hoot to drive on a summer evening.
Great post, Celi!
Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
Something I’ve always wanted to do, drive along Route 66. To me it symbolizes a time of lost innocence, creativity and ingenuity, family and community in this country. I’m going to ride it one of these days for sure! Meanwhile, thanks for the tour and the wonderful writing.
Thank you, C., thank you. I’ve been waiting for this promised post and am delighted to find such depth of information and equally compelling images. You have this way with words which causes me to think beyond the surface, to contemplate, as do your photos. The old buildings would draw me, the wondering what these small towns had been.
And just for your information, my eyes are green with flecks of brown.