David Holsted, a writer for the Harrison (Ark.) Daily Times, shares vivid childhood memories of his family traveling across Route 66 in Missouri, including his fervent wishes to stop at the Mule Trading Post near Rolla.
Here’s an excerpt:
All manner of vehicles shared the road with us – rusty pickups, log trucks, semis, station wagons loaded with vacation gear and driven by serious looking guys who were intent on having a good time even if it killed them. Occasionally, as our car passed another, I would make eye contact with a kid sitting in the opposing back seat. For a brief moment, an empathetic glance would be exchanged between us, two ships passing in the blazing afternoon. Route 66 was our ocean.
The gas stations, motels, cafes and gift shops along Route 66 presented an eclectic blend of architecture that could only be described as either Moorish, boorish or flourish. It was if the Flintstones, King Arthur, the Wizard of Oz and the Shepherd of the Hills all vied for prime real estate location along the highway.
There’s more. Go read it.