I Get My Kicks ...

So I'm toodling down I-40 in Arizona after a number of days on two-lane roads checking out mind-numbingly beautiful places like Black Canyon and Arches and Goosenecks and Monument Valley. Now it's time to get serious about making it to California in time for my appointment at Lazy Daze RV headquarters. GoJoe needs a little bit of work done there. But I keep seeing all these signs inviting me to get off the interstate and "Travel the Original Route 66."

Now you've got to understand that Route 66 holds a mythical place in my brain as I'm sure it does for countless other baby boomers. After all, we watched "Todd" and "Buzz" on TV each week in the early 60s zipping coolly from one adventure to another along Route 66 in their Corvette. And who doesn't love "I Get My Kicks on Route 66," recorded by Nat King Cole and innumerable others? A road to destiny, it is.

So after the third or fourth invitation to drive the famous Route, I finally succumb. Taking an exit somewhere just over the California line, I'm immediately jouncing on a roadway apparently constructed from giant corduroy turned sideways and coated with jagged concrete. With potholes. When this happens in an RV you find yourself in a world of jangling dishes, tinkling silverware, doors flying open, drawers sliding out, and anything not secured flopping all over. So much for nostalgia.

Back on the interstate I assume I'm done with the storied road. But no. I pull off at Victorville, CA, to get gas. I figure there will be a station within the first block or two. (I "figure" this because I really need gas.) But I go for what seems miles and ... nothing. After a while it becomes absurd. I want to turn around but I keep thinking there's got to be a gas station; I can't give up now. It also enters my mind that this could be happening for a "reason." Finally a station appears on a corner. I fill up and when I pull into the side street to turn around, what do I see before me?



That's right. Fate at its finest.

Inside are all sorts of artifacts to take you back to an earlier time. They have exhibits on old telephone offices, kitchens, clothing, you name it. But I was interested mainly in things that evoked the early efforts of Americans to explore the country by automobile.

Here's the family flivver surrounded by gas station logos and the once-ubiquitous Burma Shave signs - four rhyming signs lined up along the highway extolling the virtues of shaving creme.



And where do you stop when you're on a road trip? A diner, of course.



And finally, the early car camping scene.




All in all, I found the museum much easier to deal with than the actual road.