Route 66 History and Trip Blueprint

Route 66, also known as the Mother Road, celebrates its upcoming 100th birthday, established in 1926. Stretching 2,448 miles from Chicago to Santa Monica, it was a significant highway, cutting travel time and serving various purposes like military convoys during World War II. Despite its mythic status, it had a hidden history of racial segregation. The road's decline came with the Interstate Highway Act in 1956, causing economic devastation to towns along Route 66. Today, driving Route 66 offers a glimpse of ghost towns and unique stops like Funks Grove and Times Beach State Park. The journey highlights the road's impact on culture, economy, and even fast food history, such as the birth of Taco Bell at Midla Cafe in San Bernardino. Okay, let's unpack this legendary stretch of asphalt. We are diving deep into U.S. Route 66, the one and only, the Mother Road. If you've ever dreamed of that classic American road trip, you know, chasing neon signs and quirky Americana, you already know this name. And if you've been waiting for a reason to finally hit the gas, listen up. Route 66 is hurtling toward its 100th birthday. It was officially established November 11th, 1926. So the centennial is coming up fast. Exactly. Now is the perfect time to start planning. Okay, so let's set the scene here. When it was first designated, this was a colossal undertaking, wasn't it? We're talking 2,448 miles. Stretched all the way from the heartland from Chicago across eight states to Santa Monica, California. Eight states. And its significance was, I mean, it was immense. This wasn't just another road. It was the nation's first all-leather highway linking the Midwest to the Pacific. And it was a shortcut. A huge one. Its diagonal course shaved over 200 miles off the trip compared to the other main routes of the day. So our mission today is clear. We're going to trace the road's evolution, you know, from necessity to icon, explore some truly bizarre and unique roadside stops that still exist. And ultimately give you a blueprint for planning that road trip to celebrate the big 100. Perfect. So let's start with the birth of the road. How did it even get this mythic status? Well, it was the brainchild of entrepreneurs like Cyrus Avery and Tulsa and John Woodruff in Springfield, Missouri. But you have to remember, it wasn't built entirely from scratch in 1926. Right. It followed segments of older trails, didn't it? Yeah, exactly. Trails like the National Old Trails Road. They were basically upgrading existing, often just dirt, paths. And that upgrade took a while. It wasn't completely paved end to end until what, 1938? 1938. That was a huge national achievement. And it immediately served these crucial functions beyond just tourism. Like the trucking industry. Absolutely. Because of that diagonal path across the flat prairies, it was just so much more efficient. And later during World War II, it was essential for moving military convoys and materials. But quickly became more than just infrastructure. It took on this mythic quality, a symbol of opportunity, freedom, that classic American quest for California. And John Steinbeck cemented that with The Grace of Wrath. I mean, that book made it the path of last resort for a quarter million people fleeing the Dust Bowl. A path to a better life. A path to hope. And that narrative of movement and escape just fueled the culture, which is why it exploded after the war. And then came the music. Then came the music. Nat King Cole's Get Your Kicks On, Route 66 in 1946. That song became the anthem for a mobile, fast-moving, victorious America. But what's fascinating here is the contrast between that, you know, idealized open road and the actual reality of traveling it back then. Oh, absolutely. That freedom wasn't for everyone. The open road was only welcoming to certain groups. And this is a really crucial piece of its hidden history. Many towns along Route 66 were sundown towns. Meaning nonwhite travelers were expected to be gone by nightfall. Under threat of violence. Yeah. It's deeply unsettling. So how did motorists of color even navigate a journey that long with that kind of systemic threat? They navigated it with the Green Book. Ah, yeah. It was published from 1936 all the way to 1966. It was essentially a guide that helped African-American motorists find establishments, gas stations, restaurants, hotels that would actually serve them safely. It just shows that the celebrated road to freedom came with real danger for so many people. It was a far more complicated and courageous journey than the tourist narrative often suggests. That guide is an incredible testament to endurance. And ironically, the very thing that created Route 66, that love of speed and efficiency, is also what led to its downfall. That is the ultimate paradox of the Mother Road. After WWII, President Eisenhower, you know, he'd seen the German autobahn. And he wanted one for America. He championed this massive standardized highway system. And that led to the Interstate Highway Act in 1956. Which was an economic revolution that just bypassed all these little towns that had built their whole lives around the route. The impact was immediate. And it was devastating. The interstates were designed to speed past communities, not through them. So businesses just dried up. Within months of a new interstate opening, businesses in the bypassed towns saw their traffic drop by 80, 90 percent. Wow. Whole economies just vanished. And the route was officially decommissioned as a federal highway in 1985. It's tragic. But that collapse is what makes driving it today such a powerful experience. We get to explore the remnants, the ghost towns, frozen in time. Exactly. So let's start our road trip. Let's head east to west and hit some of the most idiosyncratic stops. Okay. Starting in Illinois, let's go to Funks Grove. And what's interesting is this town actually predates the Mother Road entirely. It was settled in the 1820s. It was a railroad stop first. Right, for the Chicago and Alton Railroad. And while the train depot and general store are overgrown now, one business has survived with this incredible longevity. Funks Grove Maple Syrup. That business has been operating since 1824. Wait, 1824, that's 200 years. 200 years. They survived the decline of the railroads, the rise and fall of Route 66, and the age of the interstate. That syrup is history in a bottle. Incredible. Okay. Moving into Missouri, we find a place with a very different story. Times Beach. Yes, a very different and much darker story. This was a bustling suburban town, about 2,000 people, until the mid-80s. And then the EPA discovered something terrifying. They discovered the streets had been sprayed with waste oil containing toxic dioxin to keep the dust down. My God. It was a full-blown environmental disaster. The entire town had to be evacuated, bought by the government, and demolished. But today, it's a park. It's now Route 66 State Park. It's been declared safe. And the visitor center is in the only building that survived, the old Bridge Head Inn. It's a powerful metaphor for renewal. Definitely. Okay. Pushing west, Oklahoma. In Oklahoma, you find Depew, what some people call a half-ghost town. A few hundred residents are still there, but the real draw is the historic brick Main Street and the old Gimel Gas Station. And then we hit the Texas-New Mexico border and Glen Rio. Glen Rio is a true ghost town. It was abandoned almost immediately after Interstate 40 bypassed it in the mid-'70s. So what's left? It's incredibly photogenic. You can see the old roadbed and 17 abandoned buildings, including this beautifully decaying, art-modern Texaco Station. It's a perfect snapshot of the moment time stopped. We should also give a quick shout-out to Adrian, Texas. Yes. The mathematical midpoint of the entire route. Imagine standing there knowing you're exactly 12,224 miles from Chicago and 1,224 miles from Santa Monica. It's a great photo op. Now as we move into the desert southwest, the sights get even more dramatic. Take two guns, Arizona. This place was a whole vibe. A trading post, a gas station, and a small zoo. A small zoo. They had mountain lions and other local wildlife to lure in travelers. That is Peak Roadside Americana. Now it's abandoned. Completely. But it attracts history buffs, people chasing legends, buried treasure, paranormal activity, and the nearby Canyon Diablo Bridge, built in 1915, is still standing. It's on the National Register. And the architecture out there is just spectacular. Oh, it's amazing. You see these great art deco buildings, like the U-Drop Inn in Shamrock, Texas, and then the Pueblo Revival style for the motor courts in New Mexico. Designed to grab your attention at 45 miles an hour. Exactly. And you know, the interstate project took decades. Williams, Arizona, was actually the last point on US-66 to be bypassed. That wasn't until 1984. They held on for so long. They really did. Which brings us to California, the final stretch. The last 315 miles. And an amazing amount of it, over 90%, is still drivable today. It is. And maybe the most iconic desert stop is Amboy, California, home to Roy's Motel and Cafe. With that famous neon sign. And that massive retrofuturistic sign. The town was deserted after I-40 went through, but a family bought it in 2005 with a promise to restore it. And the experience of seeing that sign is key. It's essential. If you're driving in from the east at night, you can see that sign glowing from 6 miles away in the pitch black of the Mojave. It's a psychological beacon. It promises civilization. And for those seeking peak eccentricity. You have to go to Elmer's Bottle Tree Ranch near Oro Grande. This is the definition of roadside folk art. Created by a welder, Elmer Long. And it's just an overwhelming, joyful sight. We're talking 20,000 to 30,000 bottles arranged on about 700 metal trees. Wow. And it's a huge international draw, isn't it? About 30,000 international visitors a year. It just shows the global appeal of the road's weirdness. Okay, before we reach the ocean, we have to talk food history. Midla Cafe in San Bernardino. Yes. Founded around 1938 by Lucia Rodriguez. This humble spot had a globally significant impact. This is where fast food history intersects with the Mother Road. Completely. A frequent customer there was a man named Glenn Bell. The founder of Taco Bell. The founder of Taco Bell. He studied their technique for making hard shell tacos. Their use of toppings like shredded iceberg lettuce and cheddar cheese. So he basically took their model. Adapted it and launched what became the global Taco Bell menu. A small Route 66 diner shaped one of the biggest fast food chains on the planet. And Midla Cafe is still there. Still there. Still a family gathering, Scott. A neighborhood anchor. Amazing. After all that, the official end of the road is at Lincoln and Olympic Boulevards in Santa Monica. That's the official spot, though everyone takes their picture at the sign on the Santa Monica pier. Of course. So after this whole journey, what does it mean for someone today? We're so close to that 100th anniversary. This is the absolute ideal time to plan your drive. And it's so important for people to know the road is not gone. It still exists in portions as the historic Route 66 National Scenic Byway. And preservation groups like the National Trust for Historic Preservation and all the local associations are working so hard to save the architecture, the signs, the motels, everything. And this is where the traveler comes in. This is where your role becomes crucial. Driving Route 66 today isn't just nostalgia. It's an economic lifeline for these towns. Every dollar you spend at a small diner or a renovated motel is helping reverse the damage the interstates did. You're directly contributing to their survival. And the 2026 centennial is the perfect reason to go. Local groups are already planning major events. I heard out at Roy's in Amboy, they're planning to double the size of their annual car show for the 100th anniversary. There's going to be so much energy along the entire route. It's really going to be the year of Route 66. It really is. And it raises an interesting question, though. You know, the unique designs of those early motels and gas stations, they were often just driven by convenience and the need to stand out. They were functional. And now they're priceless cultural treasures. They became priceless because they weren't standardized. Exactly. They're personal, they're local, they're unique. So it makes you wonder. Why? What current modern piece of transportation architecture, what massive, efficient highway landmark we're building today will hold that same kind of deep cultural significance in 100 years? Is there anything we're building now that will capture our imagination the way a simple neon sign in the desert still does? I'm not sure there is. That is a powerful thought to chew on as you start planning your own journey on the Mother Road. Get out there. You can still explore this incredible piece of American history.