I can't recall when I first decided that the thing I needed to do as a fitting way to mark my turning 60 was to drive the entire length of Route 66. We'd experienced parts of it before - seeking out Ted Drewe's famous frozen custard in St Louis, having coffee and a slice of pie in Williams, Arizona on our way between Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon, having a great Italian meal in Flagstaff - so maybe those happy memories had played into my need to see it all, not just in a piecemeal manner. On top of this was a feeling that the 'old' small town USA is being erased as interstates take drivers from city to city without the need to stop of in the roadside joints that used to service the traffic in the 30s, 40s and 50s. A few years ago, we drove from Los Angeles to Washington DC in the space of a few days, thus necessitating the use of interstates. There is just mile after mile of blacktop, no interruptions, no soul. They are efficient in getting you from A to B without allowing you to experience anything of the land they cross. The only time I felt 'right' during those days was when we got off the interstate and found a small town to grab some lunch. I said then that I wanted my next long distance drive to be on the backroads to allow us to see some small town life. Finally, there was also my dad's fascination with the US. He wasn't a great reader but when he did read a book, it was invariably about the old west - classic cowboys and indians stuff. He admired much about the US but, as far as I know, he never 'went west' as all his travel with the RAF sent him east to South Africa and the Far East. I sometimes wonder if my love of travel to the states is somehow related to fulfilling his desire. Perhaps, perhaps not.
For anyone who has no interest in all things American or who has lived in a cave their entire life, Route 66 was once a highway that connected Chicago in Illinois with Santa Monica, Los Angeles in California, around 2,500 miles of road. 'Was' is the important word to note there because it no longer exists as a single, easily definable entity: over the years it was re-routed, some bits closed entirely and other parts were absorbed into the super-roads that succeeded the highways, the interstates. To follow Route 66 these days is nothing like being the sat-nav guided zombies that we have all become whenever we undertake a new journey. No, driving Route 66 is a bit like being transported back to the not-so distant days when road maps were king and an eagle-eyed monitoring of road signs was a must. In short, back to the days when you need a navigator, a co-pilot, to allow the driver to focus on driving in a strange land, on the 'wrong' side of the road without breaking the speed limit (having been stopped three times without getting a ticket - I think I have used my luck up) and all in a car the size of Rhode Island. Route 66 probably could be done as a solo effort, but even the myriad foreign bikers who opt to do the trip on a Harley ride as a group and frequently stop as a group to discuss the route. I am happy to do journeys on my own, but this always had to be a two person undertaking. I just knew I needed soemone there to share my wonder, even if it was not their first choice for a way to spend a couple of weeks in the US!
We started the trip with three nights in Chicago, just enough time to make us realise that we would have to come back at a later date to see more. The rain put a bit of a dampener (ha!) on things but didn't stop us seeing some of the sights. The one big disappointment the weather caused was not going up the Willis Tower to see Chicago and Lake Superior laid out below. Unfortunately, the poor weather meant that cloud covered the top quarter of the building making a trip to the top pointless. It was little consolation to be told by a fellow tourist that he'd been up the day before we arrived and the views had been "magnificent". Yeah, cheers for that buddy! While we missed out on that, there was an unexpected surprise in our trip to the Windy City. A chance conversation with a couple from New York in the hotel bar on our first night revealed that 'Hamilton', a show we would love to see in London if tickets were available and affordable, was on in Chicago and we would probably get tickets online. The next morning, I booked a pair of tickets for that evening's performance and it cost around the the price of one ticket in London. It was a brilliant experience and the show's soundtrack became the backdrop for much of our journey. A very American musical for a quintessentially American trip seems to be a perfect match. Hence our taking in a baseball game: there is nothing more American than going to the ball game. Friday night saw us watch the White Sox get beaten by the LA Angels, another beautiful piece of serendipity that Chicago should be playing a team from the other end of the Mother Road!
Saturday morning and we went to the car rental place to pick up the 'third amigo' in our adventure, our vehicle for the next two weeks. I say "vehicle" because a mere 'car' it wasn't. We'd booked a regular SUV as some of the road surfaces on old 66 are a little...challenging, and not set up for a glamourous ride like a classic/retro car or a convertible. Once the guy in the garage heard where we were driving, he upped our ride to a Chevvy Suburban - 19 feet long, a 5.7 litre engine and all the bells and whistles anyone could ever need. It was so big, I literally lost a coat in it! My very first piece of driving the monster was having to reverse it down a tightly curving slope, back into the garage when I met a car coming down the slope. The garage guy said I handled it like a pro and, ego boosted sufficiently, we exited onto the streets of Chicago and manoeuvred across town to the start of Route 66.
No comments:
Post a Comment