It is amazing after all these years, I can still remember details of this Cross Country Trip on the old Route 66. It was 1962. Maybe because it was my first really long trip and maybe because it was a life-changing experience.
I was 27 years old, a single mother of a six year old boy and I was setting out for an unknown future. I had a friend from Connecticut who was living in a California town called Milpitas. We called it Mill-pit-os on our trip, accent on the first syllable. But we learned quickly that it was pronounced Mil-peet-us.
It was a chilly January morning when we left my parent’s Wadsworth, Ohio, home in a rusted-out Nash Rambler year unknown. My brother had picked it out for me for the trip by trading in my VW bug which was too small for the trip. He declared it sound enough for the trip. My Mother had insisted on accompanying my son and me.
Rollo, Missouri – Route 66
Our first planned stop the first night was Rollo, Missouri. We rented a small cabin and left a wake-up call for the morning. When the call came in the morning, it came with a warning. It had rained and frozen overnight. Everything was a sheet of ice. Great beginning.
The decision was made to try to continue and maybe drive out of it. My first step out the door with two suitcases in hand came with a balancing act to stay on my feet. We loaded the car and headed to refuel at the nearby gas station. I slid sideways up to the gas pumps. We filled up and then crawled for the next several miles until we drove out of the iced area.
Route 66 took us south so things warmed up a little after that and we had good weather for the next few days. The days were sunny and my son was stretched out on top of boxes in the back of the Rambler. He had his cork gun and was watching for Indians.
All went well until we hit the Texas pan handle. After just passing thru Amarillo, Texas, I suddenly had water splattering up on the windshield and the temperature guage hitting the RED mark. Without a car insight in either direction, I pulled off on the shoulder of the road. Mind you, this was before the days of cell phones. Although I had AAA, there wasn’t a building in sight to find a phone. Luck was on our side and God was looking out for us. It wasn’t long before a pickup truck with a friendly rancher came by and towed us to a farm garage a few miles back.
We had blown the water pump and the mechanic had to send into town for a replacement. Getting the pump from town and having it installed took most of the day. It was late afternoon when we once again got onto Route 66 heading west. Before going far, we had begun consulting the map and the overnight accommodations ahead. Our stomachs were also growling. We decided to turn around and return to Amarillo since the next accommodations would have been several hours further.
Amarillo Three Times on Route 66
So I always tell the tale of going through Amarillo, Texas, three times on our first east to west trip.
We had a good Texas steak supper and a good night’s rest before starting out again the next morning. That day took us through Oklahoma and we saw the Indian cave dwellings along the way. And my son finally saw his first Indian. An old man sitting on his doorstep. No ambush.
Our westward trek then took us into Arizona and through Flagstaff , where we hit snow. The trip south out of Flagstaff was down a very steep mountain with the snow swirling around us. With a death grip on the wheel, we crawled down into warmer weather into the Mohave Desert and more sunshine.
We then headed north in California on Route 5 to Pacheco Pass where we crossed over into the northern part of the state for our final destination. There was only one more mishap on that final stretch of road. With the sun beating down on us, a fruit truck went past in the opposite direction and managed to drop an orange onto our windshield. The juice and pulp solidified immediately in the heat and we had a bit of cleanup to do before completing our journey.
It is amazing to me that after all these years, these small details still remain fixed in my memory. I want to talk with my son and have him read this to see what he remembers.
Response Magic