The Lincoln Highway: Three and a third thousand miles at 65 - Part 2

The thing I really like about driving in the US is seeing so much that is odd or intriguing, just so much stuff generally! I know that driving in any country that is not one's own is going to throw up things that look alien to our eyes but the US just seems to contrive to be different, to have things along the highways and byways that command your attention and make you stop and engage in some way. Of course, I'm talking about the small towns here, the backwaters, the US of 1940s films, towns like Bedford Falls from 'It's A Wonderful Life'. Sure, big cities have things that will make you catch your breath, things that make you goggle in amazement at their sheer size, height or cost. Likewise it is a country packed with natural sights that are beautiful, astounding and literally awesome like the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, Monument Valley and so on. In the little towns across the country, by and large, they don't have attractions such as these to draw in visitors or make those passing through pause their journey for a while (and maybe spend a little cash too!). Instead, they come up with all sorts of strange attractions to put their hometown on the map, so to speak. It is similar to those people who seem to live on social media, Instagram in particular. It is as if 'likes' and 'follows' are the validation of a person's existence: it communicates their existence to the wider world in life and, assuming that those platforms will still be around in the future, it says "I was here and I was someone" to future generations that might find their published content. Similarly, having the 'World's Largest Knitting Needles' in your little town of around 2,800 souls (Casey, Illinois) puts you firmly on the map. In fact, in Casey, they got so into having 'The World's Biggest...' things, they now have 12 things that are Guinness World Record-certified biggest including a garden fork and a golf tee. It doesn't have to be record-breaking to draw the tourists, however, it might be just downright odd. On Route 66 we came across The Bottle Ranch - why build that? Why not? - and this time, we had two houses that are modelled on everyday objects - a boot and a coffee pot.

While the Coffee Pot House would be seen by a fair number of people as it is right on the Lincoln Highway on the edge of the town of Bedford and it stands at the gate of the local speedway fairground where race meets are held, the Boot House lies quite a way off the beaten track and has little around it save for the next door farm and fields. It is the exception that proves the rule: a quirky attraction that might pull a few sightseers away from their route but not to give a town something to hang onto as 'their'attraction, something no other town can boast. It is available to rent and, looking at the photos of the inside, the weirdness stops at the door and it is very tastefully decorated making it a fab place to stay for a week of relaxation.

Slightly tangentially, on the subject of how we are to be remembered, we noticed that in nearly every town we passed through there were banners attached to lamp posts or telegraph poles on the main route through town which commemorated those who had served and died in the US military. All we could think was that they were left over from Memorial Day in May. The fact that they were still there neary four months later and in so many towns makes me wonder if this might become a more permanent memorial to the fallen. It also made me think about the way in which the military is never too far from the surface in the US, like the random display of a warplane, tank, field gun and helicopter that we encountered in the small town of Dixon. It is a Veterans' Memorial with a list of all those from the county who gave their lives in WWII. The list I get: nearly every town in Britain has a memorial somewhere that lists the fallen. The military hardware, however, just felt a bit odd. The lamp post banners and Memorial Park did go to show the strength of pride in service that exists in the midwest where everything is just that little bit more...conservative.

Once we had cleared the urban sprawl of New York, New Jersey and we were in the post-industrial areas of Pennsyvania and beyond, things definitely changed. The proliferation of 'Don't blame me - I voted Trump in 2020' posters on the sides of barns and pro-Life billboards told you we were now a long way from the Godless hellhole that comprises the Eastern seaboard in the eyes of many. These were the towns where, if politics came up in conversation, we would be claiming to be strictly apolitical as "they are all as bad as each other". I realise that I am making a sweeping generalisation (it's my blog, so I can do what I like!) and, of course, there was plenty of evidence to show that not everyone was a cross-burning reactionary, it just felt that it was more 'in your face' here. It was thoroughly depressing to see so much support for a former President, currently the subject of 70+ indictments and who did so little to keep any of his election promises. They'll probably vote him in again regardless, so tight is the stranglehold of the death cult that comprises the majority of the GOP currently.

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