Get Your Kicks On Route 66

“Make a right turn onto that road!”

Swerving off the desolate road onto the exit ramp, I begin applying the breaks.

“Okay, turn left and head towards the town Erick. This is the town where my mother was born in Oklahoma. There isn’t anything in the town but I’d like to show you it.”

Headed down the poorly paved road, I see a faded brown highway sign that says Route 66. Looking around it’s as flat as a pancake and just about as dry as one. Taking my eyes off the road a little too long, I hit a pothole and the van bounces angrily.

“Well now you’ve seen Route 66 too…”

"Well it goes from St. Louis, Joplin, Missouri, Oklahoma City looks ohh so pretty..." - Bobby Troup

Driving past the houses on the outskirts, old rusted Model Ts and Hudsons sit like scarecrows in someone’s yard. Other houses are falling apart from lack of maintenance. A little further up the road, we make it to the main street. The road suddenly widens onto what could be a four-lane road. No cars are on the sidewalk. No people are in the streets. All of the brick buildings hold a thin layer of dust and the insides of the buildings are vacant. The only movement in the town is the stop light changing colors.

Green. Yellow. Red. Green. Yellow. Red. The only problem is that there aren’t any recipients for the lonely stop light.

 

Headed down the small housing district, I ask my grandma, “what do people do out here for work.”

My grandma shrugs and says, “I don’t know, there’s no industry out here or anything…’

Making a loop back into the heart of Erick, I spot something I didn’t notice before. Above an old highway Route 66 sign is a new sign that says “Hometown of Roger Miller ‘King of the Road'.” Beside it another sign embellishes “Route 66 Still Kickin’ Since 1926.”

Looking at my grandma I say “well that’s pretty cool your mom was from the same town as Roger Miller. I wouldn’t say that this place is still kickin’ though.”

My grandma quizzically replies, “who’s Roger Miller?”

Pulling out my Iphone, I play Roger Miller’s song King of the Road. My grandma listening to the words intently exclaims, “that song sounds just like it’s from here! I guess when you grow up in a rural town like Erick, you might have some thing to sing about.”

Turning back onto Route 66, I weave around potholes as we leave town of Erick, Oklahoma, the home of my great grandmother and the singer Roger Miller