Got My Kicks on Route 66

Van thermometer reads 112

I arrive in Lake Havasu City, southeast of Las Vegas, in the 112 degree heat of the afternoon, and find only fast food chains, one super tacky, empty and forlorn resort, and lots and lots of pavement. The Astro van becomes a sweat lodge where the overnight temp falls to 94 degrees. I high-tail it out of there early and point mi casita en ruedas northward again into the Mohave Mountains and the Hualapai Indian lands to Historic Route 66. “Main Street USA, Chicago to L.A.” is a lovely, lonely 2-lane (since the faster Highway 40 was opened) that rolls through fantastic buttes and valleys. Only a few early motorcyclists, RVers, jack rabbits and strutting quail share the road with me. A perfect 88-degree morning, the sun blazing, and I’m rarin’ to meet me some cowboys in the Old West mining town of Oatman. This cartoon of the Old West’s claim to fame is Clark Gable and Carol Lombard honeymoon site, and features the “Sidewalk Egg Fry at High Noon” and “Shotgun Weddings.” I arrive early on a Wednesday. All the cowboys must still have been sleeping off their whiskeyin’ from the night before, but several curious burros gave me some affection.

I am mesmerized by the undulating terrain of old 66 and ghosts of a heyday gone by. I buy a "Route 66" sticker for my beer cooler in Hackberry, a town that still keeps the old stories alive with vintage cars, gas pumps and memorabilia. As I continue east toward Williams, the gateway to the Grand Canyon, I catch several old Burma Shave signs and feel as if I’ve driven into the past.

Coming up next: Grand Canyon