On the 50th anniversary of the interstate highway system, Kevin A. Wilson of Automotive News comes up with a novel argument for the interstates’ existence that benefits Route 66, too. I’ve used this argument myself.
I’ll let him explain:
Many such changes, however, are matters of choice, and how we use the highway system is also a matter of choice. In 1997, almost 10 years after making that 2000-mile/two-day trip, I again traveled Michigan to Arizona, only with an entirely different approach. This time I used the interstate to go fast so I could slow down and enjoy the trip.
I had a schedule to meet, again, to generate a TV segment for AutoWeek on Speedvision (both the show and the network in its original form are sadly no longer with us). But with Mrs. Wilson again riding shotgun in a Jaguar convertible, we wanted some downtime to relax. So each morning we would start early and move as quickly as the spanking new speed limit signs would let us, until lunchtime. Then we would go adventuring.
We took in Meramec Caverns in Stanton, Missouri. We had a great lunch at the Rock Café in Stroud, Oklahoma, an old stone building where buses once carried soldiers on their way to and from World War II duties.
We toured the Route 66 museum, sought out the original Steak ’n Shake, enjoyed the Grand Canyon, Sedona and Tucumcari. Yes, many of these tourist destinations were on the old Route 66. But that was slow, slow, slow. This was interstate-enabled.
One moment we were zing-ing along, making miles of I-40 disappear in the XK8’s rearview mirror at an outrageous rate of knots, the air conditioning turned up to “frosty” while we hummed along with Willie Nelson and Leon Russell.
Ten minutes later the top was down and we were creeping through the Painted Desert, content to follow the Winnebagos at a walking pace while we swivel-necked to gape at yet another of Arizona’s natural wonders. Oohing and aahing the whole way, we stopped at most of the scenic turnouts, crawled over stone logs in the Petrified Forest, chased a lizard, examined the visitor center, stopped in the parking lot to answer questions about the beautiful car. Then we headed back to the interstate and dropped the hammer; we were running a little late for dinner.
That is how it went for an entire 4500-mile trip… Detroit-Phoenix-Detroit, taking full advantage of this slick Jaguar grand touring car and the equally fresh speed limit signs to go quickly whenever we could so that we could afford to go slowly whenever we wanted. Thanks for the option, Ike.
We’ve done this several times. After cruising Route 66, the high-speed interstate allowed us to get back home in time so we didn’t have to eat up any more vacation time. Some hardcore Route 66ers were shocked by this admission — that we used the interstates — but I was never the sort who allowed purist stances to overrule pragmatism.
As Michael Wallis once put it: “Even I have a Pikepass.”
There are days when we have time to enjoy our surroundings. There are days when we don’t. The interstate will be there whether I use it or not. When necessary, I use it to benefit 66: I used the interstate when I was hauling fragile neon tubes to repair a sign, because it’s smoother and thus posed less risk of breakage to the glass. I used the interstate when I had 40 hours to drive from Tulsa to Albuquerque, attend a meeting, and get back to my office in Tulsa. I used the interstate when I had exactly 66 hours to get from Belleville to Tucumcari, spend a day raising funds for preservation at a Route 66 festival, and get back to Belleville in time for work.
I think it is different when a roadie is forced onto the interstate. When you know 66, you know there’s something beyond that off-ramp, and whenever you can, you seek it out. You may have to get back on the interstate in a few minutes, but you’ll drive that extra half-mile into town to eat at the Rock Cafe or sleep at the Swallow instead of settling for McDonald’s and Motel 6 because they’re handy. You can do that, because you know those places are there.
The trouble comes when you have no idea what’s beyond the off-ramp, and you don’t bother venturing into town to find out. That’s what really hurts the little guys.
Now, there’s a good way to see parts of 66 when your time is very limited. I had to wonder about something, tho. They were driving from Michigan to Arizona and checked out the original Steak and Shake. The original one was on 66 in Normal, IL. (For those who don’t know, it’s now a hamburger joint, but the building is the original.) However, Normal IL is sotra out-of-the way on a Michigan to Arizona trip. Maybe they stopped at the one in Springfield MO, which is an original building but not “the original Steak and Shake.”
How’s that for picky?