Route 66 Travels

Route 66 is known as the "Mother Road" or "America's Main Street."  Rte 66 was built during late 20s.  It starts in Chicago at Lake Shore Drive, and ends in Santa Monica, CA.  The states it crosses are: IL, MO, KS, OK, TX, AZ, NM, and CA.  People were migrating west to find better prosperous life, the "American Dream" if you will.  And Rte 66 was this road to their new jobs and life.

I'm on a road trip to go volunteer at Voice of the Martyrs in Bartlesville, OK.  I did not realize this road would be the main route of my travels, and even passed Bartlesville within about 50 miles or so.  I figured it would be something fun and new, instead of just a boring 12 hour drive on highways.

I spent several hours trying to plan out a route to travel on Route 66.  This is a nearly impossible task with just a normal GPS or Atlas because Rte 66 does not exist anymore! There's a vast amount of information just doing a Google search.  So many websites with turn by turn directions.  I even downloaded some waypoints for my GPS.  I ended up just giving up on the planning, jumped in my car and followed the brown road signs that say "Historic Route 66."  (see above pic), and when I got lost I used my GPS to send me to the next closest way point.  I never bought an atlas or any special tour guide.

If you are thinking about driving Route 66, probably be best to get a paper version of a guide or atlas (considering I would get lost).  There's a few on Amazon.com.  Or just stop in historical museums and gift shops.  Also, I highly highly recommend just asking the locals what their favorite Rte 66 landmark is!  You'll find information that will probably be lost with this generation.

Odell, IL, stairs leading down underground tunnel to cross the street to the Catholic church and school.  The sign explains that Route 66 use to be so busy and dangerous that this tunnel was built.  Looks like it is either filled in with concrete now, or snow.  

St. Louis, MO's The Gateway Arch.  Of course this is a Route 66 landmark.  It is a monument and the gateway to the westward movement.

I wasn't going to stop at first in the inner St. Louis City, but I needed to gas up. I went in to the city thinking that would be the closest gas station (and yes it was more expensive).  I nearly almost ran out of gas in a really bad part of town.  GPS kept leading me to a closed or non-existant gas station.  Finally found a BP that was open, few!

Thank I parked at a church near the Arch (illegally?  The cop didn't ticket anybody).  I was trying to get some good shots, and I was walking all around the river front, and then from the side, and than went in to the sky scrapers to try and find some good pictures.   (I was trying to take a picture where it looks like the goose is sitting on top of the arch.  I'll explain the goose in another blog :P)  

So anyhow, I was trying to find the perfect Kodak moment with the goose all the while I'm avoiding this one dude that his car is broken down.  He has his hood open, and he has a flashlight with his head down under the hood.  He is right on the city street, and traffic is whizzing by him. I'm feeling bad for him, and when I gave up on the goose, I walked past him to see if he would notice me.  I'm feeling shy, maybe he'll ask me for help?  I walk by and his attention is full in to the car.

I think to my self, man, my mom is going to kill me if she finds out about this.  And so I decided to approach him.  He was on one side of the car, and I approached on the opposite side of the car.

"Hey, you okay?" I called out to him.

And he proceeds to explain to me some mechanical information about his car, that went over my head.  I reply back, "I don't know anything about cars, but I have a cell phone if you need to make a call."  He already had a cell phone,  (like most everybody does these days).

We were chit chatting a little when he mentions that I look hansom.  Huh??  That sent red flags up that I should get out of there. 

 I mention that I was on the road to go volunteer some time at a church, that is expecting me.  Maybe he'll stop flirting with me if he knows I'm church-folk.

He asks me if I can help him push his car out of the main street and in to a nearby parking spot.  Which I do, and the car is out of the busy part of the street.

He thanks me and shakes my hand for helping him push his car.  He says, "ooh, you're strong and you're cute."

Time to escape!  I thought to myself.

I told him, "I'm going to take off.  It was nice to meet you."  I turned around and started walking away.

He started following me and asked if I was just going to go for a walk and he would come with me.  I said, "no sorry, I'm going to hit the road now."  

Yikes!

This is Ribbon Road in Miami, OK (pronounced MIAM--UH.  Named after a Native American tribe).  According to the travel brochure from the travel office, this road was here before Rte 66 was named.  I went down it anyhow, and got lost.  It took several hours of driving very slowly to find my way out to smooth pavement again. There is mud all over my car now.  The only thing back there was some farmers and cows.

If I didn't gas up in Quapaw, and also, if they did not have pay-at-the-pump (because they were old school), than I would not have been tipped off by the cashier lady where Micky Mantle's home was.  Again I recommend asking all the locals what their favorite landmark is.

Here's a picture of Mickey Mantle's humble beginngs.  Mickey, of course, is the legendary, hall-of-famer, baseball player.  This is his child hood home.  According to the plaque on the side of the house, Mickey's dad would pitch the baseball at Mickey to hit in the yard.  The small shed on the right side is where Micky would stand ready to hit the ball toward the house.  His dad made up rules that, if the ball flew below the window it was a single; if it flew above the window it was a double; if it flew on to the roof, a triple; and over the roof was a homerun.  Behind me was a baseball field where he played at too, and is now called Mickey Mantle Field.

One of the few rainbow bridges left in America, and it's in Baxter Springs, KS, according to the curator lady at the museum.

Tomorrow I start my first day of work at Voice of the Martyrs.