ROUTE 66 REVISITED ~ Motorcycle Fashions

July 17, 2012

ROUTE 66 REVISITED

7:21 AM

Celebrated in song and television images which linger, like internet photos, seemingly forever, Route 66 once stretched across the US from sea to shining sea, a string of lights and and odd necklace across America's southlands. President Eisenhower's plans for an interstate highway system, to facilitate lateral military movements during the 'Red Dawn' era (which also lingers, although the fictional culprit appears to live in the White House, according to an Arizona local who bent my ear in a tavern), ultimately chopped up Route 66 like a broken snake, and the rideable stretches sit between moto-boring freeways.

Exiting I-40 on the many 'Historic Route 66' turnoffs reveals what a fascinating and diverse place America was, and what a strip-mall horror of universal corporate sameness she has become, at least along the major transport corridors. The old highway is narrow and twisty and full of spectacular vistas, and small, dying towns, which once thrived with cross-country tourists who had no option but to take one of the few point-to-point highways headed all the way east or west. Meandering through these scruffy desert gems, with their living-on-disability inhabitants in accretive trailers or corrugated tin shacks, you just never know what you'll find, and who you'll meet, but with an open mind and friendly demeanor, it is possible to shut out the 'Obama is a nazi' crap you'll inevitably hear at first (since you're city folk, and need to hear 'the truth'), and find how resourceful, intelligent, and generous desert folk can be.

And of course, prove the truth of my motto, 'Old Motorcycles Are Everywhere.' It was beer-thirty, and the tiny saloon, the only one in town, displayed sometimes toothless and slightly inebriated locals out front on plastic chairs, enjoying the afternoon warmth. Not wanting to interrupt, we slipped inside to the fantastic old bar, for the cheapest beers I've had since 1988. One charming local asked what we were about, and the mention of 'a vintage motorcycle rally' had him at our side, with offers of a tour of his home, and the local old bike collection. True to his word, the tour was spectacular, the the locale made me think, just for a moment, that the incredible vista of bluffs, rugged canyons, Saguaro cacti, and old tin shacks, was very appealing, while the dead quiet and beautifully clean air gave a perfectly clear reason to Stay.