U.S. Route 66

Can you imagine what it feels like to stretch for over two thousand miles. I do. I begin my journey in the cool shadows of skyscrapers in a big city, where the wind whips off a great lake. From there, I unroll myself like a long gray ribbon across America's heartland. I ripple over rolling green hills, slice through endless fields of corn, and zip through sleepy little towns where everyone knows each other. I feel the constant rumble of tires, from big rumbling trucks to speedy family cars. As I travel west, the air gets warmer and the land gets drier. I climb over mountains and then dip into the vast, sun-baked desert, winding past towering red rocks and giant cacti that look like they're waving hello. At night, the darkness is broken by the colorful glow of neon signs from motels and diners. Finally, after a long and dusty journey, I can smell the salt in the air and feel the cool ocean breeze. My trip ends where the land meets the sparkling Pacific Ocean. I am the Main Street of America. I am the Mother Road. I am U.S. Route 66.

Before I came along, traveling across America was a bumpy, messy adventure. The country was connected by a patchwork of disconnected dirt and gravel roads that turned to sticky mud when it rained. But in the 1920s, more and more people owned amazing new automobiles and they dreamed of exploring their country. They needed a good, reliable road to carry them on their adventures. So, an idea was born to create a great highway connecting the Midwest to the West Coast. On November 11th, 1926, I was officially born. I wasn't built all at once from scratch. Can you imagine that challenge. Instead, workers took hundreds of existing local roads and began the hard work of linking them together. They graded the land, poured gravel, and then covered it all with smooth, black asphalt, creating a single paved path from Chicago, Illinois, all the way to Santa Monica, California. My purpose was to unite the country, to bring travelers and business to the small towns along my path, and to give Americans a road to follow their dreams.

My most important years were filled with both sadness and joy. During the 1930s, a terrible drought called the Dust Bowl turned the middle of the country into a dry, dusty wasteland. I watched as thousands of families, their cars piled high with mattresses, pots, and pans, traveled along my back. They were heading west to California, searching for work and a better life. I became their path of hope. A famous writer named John Steinbeck saw their difficult journey and gave me a special name: 'The Mother Road,' because I helped care for them on their way. Then, after World War II ended in the 1940s, everything changed. In the 1950s, America was celebrating, and I became the happiest road in the world. Families would pile into their shiny cars for summer vacations, and I was their tour guide. To welcome them, all sorts of fun and quirky things sprang up along my sides. There were motels shaped like giant teepees, colorful diners with jukeboxes playing happy songs, and huge statues of cowboys and dinosaurs. I was the road of adventure.

But just as a river's course can change, so did the path of travelers. In 1956, a plan was approved for a brand-new Interstate Highway System. These were enormous, straight, multi-lane highways designed to get people from one place to another as fast as possible. They were like super-fast rivers, and I was the slow, winding creek. The new interstates bypassed all the small towns that I ran right through. Slowly, my traffic faded away, and the little motels and diners grew quiet. On June 27th, 1985, I was officially decommissioned and my U.S. 66 signs were taken down. It felt like I might be forgotten forever. But people remembered the adventures they had with me. They didn't want my story to end. Soon, groups formed to preserve my historic stretches. Today, travelers from all over the world come to drive on me. They still eat at the old diners and take pictures of the quirky sights. I may not be the fastest way to travel anymore, but I remind everyone that the journey itself is often the most wonderful part of any adventure.