Route 66 Trip

10 September 2009. Chicago.

6am local time, and our odyssey is about to begin. It’s 6 am and I’m too excited to sleep, so I thought I would take a stab at figuring out how this blogging thing works – prompted by an email suggestion from cousin Brian Stich. The idea had not occurred to me previously (I’m astonishingly old-fashioned and behind-the-times, sometimes – just ask Seth and Alan, who no doubt will never forgive me if I wind up able to get this to work before figuring out how to "friend" them on Facebook, whatever that means), so this is a last-minute endeavor, and I make no guarantees about whether or how often I’ll update it; I don’t intend to spend time hunting down internet connections en route. But I’ll try to at least post some starting remarks.

Yesterday – appropriately, with the 9/9/09 configuration so exciting to the numerologists – was mustering day, with those of us coming from points west flying to the midwest to meet up with our vehicles and crew: Uncle Don flew from Los Angeles to Minneapolis, and I came from Colorado Springs to Chicago, meeting up with Uncle Tom and my parents respectively to position ourselves to hit the road today.

This trip has been years in the making. It has been on my "bucket list" for as long as I can remember. I can remember joking about it a decade ago with my ex-husband (back when we could laugh and joke about things), when he would tease that he wasn’t going to let me do any of the driving if we ever drove Route 66 – something I had wanted to do for years. Even way back in the mid-90s, I can recall taking pictures of the Route 66 roadsigns when Jim and I serendipitously found ourselves in Flagstaff, Arizona over Labor Day weekend 1995. So I guess this has been on my radar screen for most of my adult life.

Several of us began to talk about "the Route 66 trip" in earnest the weekend of Uncle Don’s surprise 70th birthday party in Vegas in September 2006, when most of the aunts and uncles expressed interest in going; we considered trying to do it the following summer. Fate interfered, and with Aunt Theresa’s tragic accident and various life changes and challenges for all of us, years went by. Last summer we resurrected the idea the weekend of Mom & Dad’s big party (celebrating his retirement, her 65th, and their 40th wedding anniversary, surrounded by friends and family who gathered on the farm over food, plenty of wine – featuring Stich brew and plenty of "3-buck Chuck" – and later that evening, a bonfire with fireflies blinking in the Michigan woods in the background). At that point we decided we all needed to set aside a time frame and, as Nike would say, "just do it" – otherwise, more years would slip away and this idea would fall by the wayside along with so many other good intentions.

So we set aside the entire month of September 2009 for our westward journey, and here we are. In the meantime we whittled that time to 3 weeks starting now, deciding to begin shortly after Labor Day with the intention of reaching Los Angeles by the end of the month. Our numbers waxed and waned, with as many as 30 people expressing interest in participating. In the end, we will be 5: myself, my parents, and Uncles Don and Tom, the latter of whom is a vintage car buff with the goodies to prove it: he will bring to the table his restored ‘59 Ford Skyliner, a sweet turquoise convertible that apparently (with some extension thing on the back) is the longest car ever built. He has promised that I can drive it, and I can’t wait.

Although we’ll miss the wit and wisdom of those who can’t be with us, in the end the logistics probably will be easier with the smaller group, whether staying with friends, sleeping in my parents’ 5th-wheel Scamp (touted as sleeping 6 "comfortably" – we’re hoping that it’ll do for 5), or making motel reservations. Most of us are pretty laid-back – I’m probably the most high-strung in the group – which should enable us to reach true consensus on travel decisions, greasing the wheels for a smooth trip.

I feel bad abandoning Bernie and the kids while I run off to play – but I must confess to not being heartbroken about temporarily escaping from practicing multiplication tables, nagging about homework, and the inevitable little-boy excuses and stories concocted to gain a pass to play outside or watch TV instead of attending to overdue homework; after only 3 weeks of school, I’m already tired of that routine. The kids are all great – unless and until any responsibility is requested or expected, and I’m tired of constantly nagging. I was such a brown-nosing nerd in school that I absolutely cannot relate to someone completely not caring about homework or grades.

I flew standby on Northwest/Delta from Colorado Springs to Chicago, connecting in Minneapolis with not quite enough time to run out and greet Uncle Don, whose Southwest flight from LAX/Denver arrived 5 minutes before mine left for O’Hare. Dad’s cell phone wasn’t working, but fortunately we were of like mind, and I saw the pickup and camper circling the terminal shortly after I stepped out to the curb closest to Northwest baggage claim. We drove about half an hour west to St. Charles, where we spent the night with Monica, my best friend from high school, and her family: her husband Brad and their 4 adorable little girls, Torree, Lexy, Reiney, and Halle. Everyone feasted on Chicago-style deep-dish pizza and ice cream (her and my traditional reunion favorite) before the rest of the crew headed for bed. She and I stayed up until after 1:30 talking – we see each other far too infrequently – before calling it a night.
Now it’s morning, and I’m ready to roll. Mom, Dad, and I hope to locate the original starting point of the Mother Road before heading down it to Bloomington, Illinois, where we’ll meet up with the Minnesota contingent at a Yogi Bear campground, our designated rendezvous point.

So... Off we go!


Route 66
Well if you ever plan to motor west, just take my way, that’s the highway that’s the best.
Get your kicks on Route 66.
Well, it winds from Chicago to L.A. more than 2000 miles all the way.
Get your kicks on Route 66.
Well goes from St. Louie down to Missouri, Oklahoma City looks oh, so pretty.
You’ll see Amarillo and Gallup, New Mexico.
Flagstaff, Arizona, don’t forget Winona, Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino.
Would you get this hip to this kindly tip and go take that California trip?
Get your kicks on Route 66!