Route 66.  All that is America rolled into a neat little phrase.

Diners.    Drive-in theaters.   Railway track.

An endless ribbon of asphalt over that bump in the land called the horizon.

Grapes of Wrath and Jack Kerouac.

Flames.  Rails.  T-Buckets.  The Hot Rod: An American creation.

Eight ball shifters.  Mag wheels, not stock..

An American curiosity of metal flake paint, chrome and steel, air and fuel.

Rat Fink and Edelbrock.

Sneak your buddies in the trunk and dim your headlights please.

Popcorn.  Dr. Pepper.  Stars not to miss.

The speaker crackles, "Remember, only you can prevent forest fires!"

Intermission and a stolen kiss.

A stranger to this dimension, high-tech, round and silver.

German engineered. Built in Mexico.

Never seen an attendant fill the tank, check the oil, wash the windshield.

Cash or Credit at Texaco.

Meeting American iron out of Detroit city.  The great cruisers of this road.

Fords. Buicks. Built to last.

Carrying the nuclear family on their annual camping trip to the Grand Canyon.

Rusted metal and icons of the past.

The Edsel and Beetle, sisters, curious children of the Mother Road.

Two legends.  Two famous faces.

One a crushing defeat, one capturing the minds and dreams of yet another generation.

Itchy feet and far-off places.

A highway from Chicago to L.A., my way, it's the best.

Bitumen.  Gravel.  Sand.

A pearl necklace of towns and tourist traps for the Statue of Liberty.

The people and the land.

In darkness it is quiet as restless drivers sleep in wigwam motels.

Air conditioning.  Color TV.  Half price.

The flash of the Vacancy neon reflects in the swimming pool, complete with slide, no diving.

Magic fingers and mice.

The night clerk watches potential guests zip by on the four-lane concrete interstate.

Limited access.  Faster.  No speed zone.

They took away it's number but they still keep coming back to escape the freeway and it's boredom.

18-wheelers and monotone.

Like the T-Bird and the Bug the Mother Road is back in style.  A retro revival.

Simplicity.  Peace.  Let's go trippin'.

A generation raised with computers and cell phones, searching for what they missed.

She's alive and kickin'.   ~Tyler

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(C) CTD January, 2002 email: trainspotted2@aol.com Visit my main page at: http://trainscona.tripod.com