A year ago, on my 66th birthday, I flippantly said I had a goal. I was going to visit Route 66 the year I was 66 and take a selfie with a Route 66 sign.
A bit of history – Route 66 was the main road between California and Chicago and is nicknamed “The Mother Road.” During the Depression and the Dust Bowl, Route 66 was flooded with people heading west with dreams of a better life.
After the economy improved, people wanted to sightsee, and Route 66 was the best way to tour a good bit of the country. A 1946 song by Bobby Troup made the road even more popular because people wanted to “get their kicks on Route 66.”
When interstates became the fastest way to travel, the popularity of Route 66 faded. But people had fond memories of the old road.
Folks did their best to preserve some of the iconic Mother Road signs and gas stations, and tacky souvenir shops are now popular tourist attractions.
My off-hand comment became something friends and family would ask about. Every month, I’d remind myself to make good on that promise.
Covid put a damper on most of the year, as did commitments that popped up. The promise to myself took a back seat to everything else.
I told myself standing on Route 66 and taking a selfie was a silly thing, a trip just to say I did it. Then I’d think about the travel expenses and time away from home, and the thought became a whisper.
A few weeks ago, my grandson drew a beautiful, geometric-inspired picture with an armadillo in the middle. He included a variety of icons, but there was one that jumped out – an interstate sign with the name “Route 66.” He’d remembered, and there was no way I’d disappoint that darling.
Logging onto Google Maps, the closest place to visit Route 66 was Oklahoma City, 450 miles from my front door.
A couple of weeks later, I packed up the car and headed north. My nephew, Jarrod, lives around Dallas so we made plans for lunch in downtown Denton. My next stop was the welcome station in Oklahoma where I took a picture on my phone and texted it to the grandkids.
Later in the day, I found a hotel and then headed off to the Round Barn, an iconic stop on Route 66. The barn was closed, but there was a Route 66 sign on the premises, and I took a selfie there, fulfilling a promise I’d made almost a year ago.
I don’t break promises to other people, but broken promises litter my path like pieces of confetti. I’ll lose weight, take that fitness class, clean out that cabinet, write more letters
But when my grandson believed I’d make the trip, there was no way I’d back out. I’ll admit, after I took that selfie with the Route 66 sign, I held my head a little higher.
Instead of coming straight home on the interstate, I headed east and visited a Route 66 museum in Chandler, Okla. A knowledgeable volunteer told me the history of the museum and pointed out some of the iconic sights people saw along Route 66 back when The Mother Road was popular.
The first thing I’m going to do when I get home is give my grandson the T-shirt I bought for him with Route 66 printed on the front. I want him to know his encouragement motivated me to keep my promise and get my kicks on Route 66.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.