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A NEW direct rail service connecting two major UK cities started running again for the first time in over two decades.

The first direct service left the station this morning at 7am.

A new daily rail service between Oxford and Bristol Temple Meads began today, offering a direct service between the two cities for the first time in 23 years.

The new service started this morning after plans were finally given the go-ahead on Friday, May 13, by Network Rail and Great Western Railway.

Running from Monday to Saturday, the new service will travel via the following stations: Oxford, Swindon, Chippenham, Bath Spa and Bristol Temple Meads.

Both services began today with the first train leaving Oxford at 7am, arriving into Bristol Temple Meads at 8.20am.

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Going the other way, the first service departing from Bristol left at 7.14am and arrived into Oxford at 8.32am.

The fastest journey times from Oxford will be one hour and eight minutes and from Bristol one hour and 11 minutes.

Until today, there was no direct service between Oxford and Bristol, according to the Local Democracy Reporting Service.

The new rail line also means there is now a direct service for passengers travelling between Swindon and Oxford.

Previously travellers needed to change at either Didcot Parkway or Reading.

Great Western Railway’s managing director, Mark Hopwood, said the decision comes after years of campaigning from customers and partners.

“The economic and social benefits are clear, and we are confident that these new services demonstrate the value of rail in driving economic growth, environmental benefits, and creating education and employment opportunities which previously were not possible – as well as directly linking two of the key leisure markets in the UK,” he said.

Swindon South MP and Secretary of State for Transport, Heidi Alexander, said the “weekend trial of direct trains was hugely popular” and the new service will provide travellers with “a fast, convenient alternative to being stuck in a traffic jam on the A420”.

Network Rail Western route director, Marcus Jones, said bringing back the direct service “is a significant step in improving connectivity across the Western route” and the new links “will make it easier for people to travel between key economic centres, opening up new opportunities for work, education and leisure”.

A MAIN road into a major UK airport is set to shut over the half term – and could spark getaway chaos for thousands of Brits heading on holiday.

The works will take up to 11 days to complete.

An overnight road closure will block a main access route into Leeds Bradford Airport, with works starting next Monday (May 18).

From 7pm to 6am, the route between the Pool Bank and Dyneley Arms junction and Leeds Bradford Airport will be shut, with works set to last until Friday, May 29.

The airport notified travellers of the disruption via social media, and said a sign-posted diversion route will be in place, operating via the A660.

It added that those travelling from North Yorkshire, the North East, and Wetherby may find their journey times up to 30 minutes longer than usual.

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The airport also suggested to factor in additional time when travelling to or from the area, as disruption is to be expected.

Online, travellers reacted with disbelief and frustration over the schedule of the closures.

One said: “Staggering timing as the Friday and the overnight on Saturday is the first day of half term so lots of families will be travelling.”

Others complained that the works in place last week had caused “horrendous” traffic, where “there was no way to get through”.

Leeds Bradford Airport welcomes more than four million passengers a year, with flights from airlines like Jet2, Ryanair, and easyJet.

Last year, it opened a new multi-million pound terminal and aims to serve seven million travellers annually by 2030.

Richard Mitchell, 84, of Albuquerque in 2016. Mitchell used the Green Book to drive across the United States in 1964. The travel guide “assured protection for Negro travelers.”

(Photo by Craig Fritz / For The Times
)

Forty-four of the 89 counties along Route 66 were sundown towns, communities where it was encouraged for Black people to leave before dark — or else. Route 66 diners, motels and gas stations routinely refused service to Black travelers. In 1936, a Harlem postal worker named Victor Green began publishing the Negro Motorist Green Book, a guide to the hotels, restaurants and gas stations along the route that would serve Black travelers. More than 1,400 tourist homes (private residences that took in guests when hotels wouldn’t) were listed during the guide’s run.

For Black families on Route 66, the Green Book was as essential as a spare tire. In Tulsa, the Greenwood District was once known as “Black Wall Street.” White thugs destroyed it in the 1921 Race Massacre. The community rebuilt and became a hub of Black commerce near the route. Springfield, Ill., was one of the first cities on Route 66 to offer services to Black travelers. It was also the site of the 1908 Race Riot, which helped spur the founding of the NAACP.

A vintage photo of the Hayes Motel in Los Angeles. It was featured in the Green Book, which listed places that served African Americans during the era of segregation.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

See what remains today: Only about 30% of Green Book sites along Route 66 are still standing. The DuBeau in Flagstaff, Ariz., once a Green Book listing, now operates as a motel. The recently shuttered Clifton’s in downtown Los Angeles sits at 7th and Broadway, the original terminus of Route 66. Route History Museum in Springfield is the only museum in the country dedicated to the Black experience on Route 66, housed in a 1930s Texaco station one block off the road. It offers a virtual reality experience that walks visitors through the Green Book cities of Illinois, including sundown towns.

Beyond the Green Book, other businesses that are worth a visit include Threatt Filling Station in Oklahoma, a Black-owned gas station (and safe haven for Black travelers) during the era of segregation, and the neon sign from Graham’s Rib Station, a beloved Black-owned restaurant for many years. It’s located at the local History Museum on the Square in Springfield, Mo.

Also known as Sky City, Acoma is a Native community of earthen homes perched atop a 357-foot-high mesa. It has been occupied for roughly 1,000 years by the Acoma Pueblo tribe, which is independent of the nearby Navajo, Zuni and Laguna, with its own language and about 5,000 enrolled members.

Thanks to revenues from their Sky City Casino and hotel along Interstate 40, the Acoma also have a large, handsome Haa’ku Museum and Sky City Cultural Center next to the historic mesa. There, outsiders can gather for escorted tours of 60 to 90 minutes, mostly walking. It’s $30 per adult. Photography, binoculars and note-taking are closely restricted, and outsiders are generally forbidden from the mesa except on tours.

My group of 18 travelers was led by guide Gail Toribio, 27. After a quick bus ride up a steep road built in the 1950s, we found ourselves on top of the mesa, facing one massive church, about 500 homes and several pottery stalls that materialize during tours. The views were spectacular, the pottery was full of painstaking detail, and it was fascinating to see the ancient and modern elements together in the hilltop homes. But the biggest thing and most astonishing story on the mesa is the San Estévan del Rey Mission.

When Spanish troops and missionaries showed up in the 16th century, they forced labor and Christianity upon Native groups, often slaughtering and maiming those who resisted, including many Acoma. By the 1640s, forced labor had produced the church on the mesa, its 40-foot-long ponderosa pine beams dragged from Mt. Taylor, more than 30 miles away. Somehow, when the area’s tribes rose up in the Pueblo Indian revolt of 1680 and killed most of the Catholic priests in New Mexico, the church endured. And over time, Toribio told us, most Acoma families settled into a sort of dual faith, combining their traditional beliefs with Catholic rituals, including Christmas.

After the church, we walked among two-story homes that were here long before the first Europeans showed up. (Only a handful of the homes are still occupied full time.)

“I was actually raised up there,” potter Gwen Patricio, 52, told me back at the visitor center. “No electricity, no running water. They asked the elders if they wanted electricity, but they said no.”

Friends, motorists, fellow Americans: The road ahead is far from straight. But it will take us through eight states and dozens of small towns, past Muffler Men and Patel motels, beneath the bright lights of Tulsa and Tucumcari, up close to Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” and Angel Delgadillo’s barber chair.

In other words, it’s Route 66, an American artifact that turns 100 in November and seems to contain more curiosities and paradoxes than the Midwest has cornstalks.

To see all that up close and catch America’s Main Street making ready for its centennial summer, I drove the entire stretch — from Chicago to Albuquerque in one trip, then Albuquerque to Santa Monica in another, a combined 17 days on the road.

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Even before that first day of driving brought me to Springfield, Ill., I’d realized that more days would have been better. As traveler Leonidas Georgiou of Greece told me, “This is a lifetime journey.”

You quickly see that this 2,448-mile route is actually a medley of rural highways, small-town main streets, frontage roads and inescapable bits of Interstate 40. You roll from Midwest farmland to Southwest desert to the Pacific, rising and falling between sea level and 7,000 feet. The roadside signs and buildings, restored and ruined, cry out for more than a drive-by snap. And people are happy to see you, because Route 66 is what keeps some of these towns alive.

Beginning with your first miles — and a cup of coffee at Lou Mitchell’s diner in Chicago — you meet all sorts of travelers. A mother and daughter from New York. The California couple who just retired from the Air Force. The European cop who persuaded his mom to come along, then had her sleep in the car to save money. The “roadies,” many of them retired, who return every year. Some come for the scenery, some for the signage, some for the conversations.

Depending on whom you ask, this might be the most famous highway in the world. It is the inspiration for a short, happy song that’s lasted 80 years (Bobby Troup’s “[Get Your Kicks on] Route 66”) and a long, sad book that’s lasted 87 (John Steinbeck’s “The Grapes of Wrath”). Then again, if you were born in this century, you probably know the road’s story best from the 2006 Disney-Pixar movie “Cars.”

As the miles go by, you realize that Route 66 hasn’t been strictly American for a long time. Many Route 66 merchants and hoteliers say that most of their customers are travelers from abroad. Beyond that, many Route 66 entrepreneurs are from families that came to the U.S. in the last 50 years. I met a restaurateur from Lebanon, one motel owner from the Netherlands and four more motel owners, all named Patel, whose families arrived from India after 1965.

Route 66 west of Seligman, Ariz.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

“You never know what language or accent you’re going to hear,” says Rhys Martin, Tulsa, Okla.-based manager for the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Preserve Route 66 initiative. “You’ve got new business owners. You’ve got unique cuisine. You’ve got this cultural diversity. You’ve got the African American experience. It’s more complicated than just a trip back in time.”

And this year is especially complicated.

Hundreds of small businesses along the route have been investing in centennial upgrades and celebrations, including a 19-day national caravan that begins June 6 in Santa Monica. But 2025 was slow on 66, in part because many Canadian visitors stayed away after President Trump proposed taking over their country.

1.) Views of the Chicago skyline from Navy Pier. 2.) Millennium Park, Chicago. (Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

Now, on the brink of summer, soaring gasoline prices could keep many Americans home, and President Trump’s America-first rhetoric and nonresident fees might drive more international travelers elsewhere.

“We all worry about that,” says Terri Ryburn, owner of Ryburn Place Gifts & Gab in a 1930s gas station in Normal, Ill.

“We need new roadies,” says Anna Marie Gonzalez, co-owner of the Aztec Motel & Creative Space in Seligman, Ariz. “And the roadies need to be American this year.”

Now my rented Ford Escape SUV is rolling and my windshield is full of rural Illinois. Water towers, grain elevators, flags on barns. Black and white cows.

The skyline view from Chicago’s Navy Pier is half a day behind me, as are the crowds around the big silver bean in Millennium Park and the great American artworks in the Art Institute of Chicago (where “Nighthawks” hangs).

Experts say that about 85% of the old highway is still drivable. But some states post more signs than others. And everywhere, people steal signs.

Ah, but not these signs. One for a barn sale off Stripmine Road. A warning that Funks Grove has sold out of pure maple syrup. Somebody selling deer pee to hunters.

When I cross the state line, I face a billboard pitching “Uranus Fudge Factory, Missouri’s No. 2 Attraction.”

After I pass the exit comes the sequel message: “Uranus is behind you.”

The Wagon Wheel Motel stands along Route 66 in Cuba, Mo.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

The Route 66 timeline starts in November 1926. That’s when state and federal transportation officials embraced the idea of connecting scores of cities and small towns with one long, paved road.

As I pull over for a barbecue dinner in tiny Cuba, Mo., the 90-year-old Wagon Wheel Motel pops up like a slideshow illustration of that time. The stone-walled motel looks unchanged in decades, but sleepy.

“Never closed,” says a sign in the window with a phone number. “If office locked we are close by.”

The Rockwood Motor Court in Springfield, Mo., is a window into the same era. Built in 1929, my $77 room is compact and the plumbing is delicate, but all the vintage vibes are present. Phyllis Ferguson, desk clerk, owner and “old building hugger,” is full of tips on roadside businesses and where to stay, because “I know these little tourist courts are getting fewer and farther between.”

Boots Court motel opened in 1939 to capitalize on Route 66 traffic in Carthage, Mo.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

In Carthage, Mo., at Boots Court, desk clerk Jason Shelfer shows me a splendidly restored 1939 room where Clark Gable slept and tells me he never appreciated the reach of Route 66 until now.

“When people from Brazil come to Carthage, Missouri,” Shelfer says, “something magical is happening.”

And there’s another side to this magic: 66 can also be invisible up close. Not just because of missing signs, but because it has aliases everywhere. It’s Jackson Boulevard in parts of Chicago, Garrison Avenue in Carthage and Main Street in Galena, Ks., where 18-year-old cashier Kassidy Kell welcomes me into Gearhead Curios.

“Before my job,” she confesses, “I had no idea what the thing was with Route 66.”

It was John Steinbeck who called 66 the Mother Road. But if the Mother Road has a father, it’s probably Cyrus Avery, a Tulsa businessman and big wheel on the Oklahoma Highway Commission in the 1920s. Avery, who now has his own plaza in Tulsa, campaigned for a Chicago-Los Angeles route through his hometown. Little did he know what was coming.

The Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza features a bronze sculpture called “East Meets West,” just off the now-closed Cyrus Avery Route 66 Memorial Bridge in Tulsa, Okla.

(Mike Simons / For The Times)

Within a decade, drought and Depression had forced legions of Dust Bowl migrants from Oklahoma and beyond on desperate journeys west, using Route 66.

A decade beyond that, the end of World War II in 1945 filled the road again, this time with happy travelers.

That postwar era is what many people now think of as a simpler time, and perhaps a better one. But segregation and “sundown towns” were still in place along much of the route. For travelers of color, a carefree road trip would have been impossible. And for many Native Americans, the roadside proliferation of cowboy/Indian caricatures would have been nothing to smile at.

But these were years that reshaped the look of Route 66. Hundreds of motels, shops and gas stations rose along the road, often designed in bold geometry and bright colors.

Mary Beth Babcock at her shop Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios in Tulsa, Okla. In the background is her giant, Stella Atom.

(Mike Simons / For The Times)

Flash forward now to Tulsa’s Meadow Gold District, a.k.a. “land of the giants.” In 2018, retailing veteran Mary Beth Babcock took over an old gas station, dubbed it Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios on 66, and soon opened more shops nearby.

Then, to get attention and make drivers smile, she put up a few “muffler men” — roadside fiberglass giants. She started with Buck and Stella Atom, a space cowboy and cowgirl who loom over 11th Street, looking to the past and future.

“Americana!” says Babcock. “Road trip! Who wouldn’t want to do that?”

Near the east edge of the Texas panhandle stands the most elegant gas station you’ll ever see: the 1936 U-Drop Inn and Tower Station in Shamrock, which drips with Art Deco style. (No, you can’t get gas there. But you can eat at the cafe inside or charge your Tesla in back.)

In Groom, stopping for gas, I spy the largest cross I have ever seen — 190 feet high and 110 feet wide. Nearby, I glimpse a crooked water tower — built to attract tourists and billed as the Leaning Tower of Texas.

Sorry, Groom. I’m not stopping.

The fastidiously restored U-Drop Inn, a Streamline Moderne filling station and cafe in Shamrock, Texas, is one of the architectural standouts of Route 66. It doesn’t sell gas, though.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

I reach Amarillo just in time, grab paint cans and hustle out to the field where a line of 10 old Cadillacs stand half-buried. As the sun sets, they throw 50-foot shadows while the scent of spray paint fills the air.

This is Cadillac Ranch, an art installation from the 1970s where visitors are free to add their own paint, whatever they like. Mine says “Read Something.”

Next comes Tucumcari, N.M., one of the few places to sleep between Albuquerque and Amarillo. Because of that, it used to get thousands of road-trippers. They’d slowly roll down the main drag, choosing favorites from a riot of snappy names and caricatures lit in gleaming neon.

“They tell me it was like driving into a little Las Vegas,” says Gar Engman, owner of Tee Pee Curios.

But I-40 changed everything.

In 1956, President Eisenhower called for a better interstate highway system. By the mid-1960s, wider, faster interstates started opening, flanked by chain hotels and restaurants. After I-40 bypassed Tucumcari in 1981, and train service dropped off as well, Tucumcari crashed. Just about every town along 66 has a version of this story, especially in New Mexico and Arizona.

Visitors to the Cadillac Ranch art installation in Amarillo, Texas, are allowed to spray-paint the 10 Cadillacs half-buried in the ground there.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

So is Tucumcari a ghost town? Not exactly. Many buildings stand empty and the Apache Motel’s vintage sign rests flat in a parking lot like a fallen soldier. But several motels are clearly doing fine, as is Tee Pee Curios. At night you still see a great set of signs. Most dramatic is the Blue Swallow Motel with its bird in flight, cursive letters and promise of “100% refrigerated air” — maybe the most photographed sign on 66. But you can’t ignore Motel Safari, the Roadrunner Lodge and La Cita restaurant, which wears a red sombrero and serves a fine Frito pie.

In Newkirk, N.M., four turkeys cross the road, leaving me groping for a punch line.

In Santa Rosa, N.M., I tiptoe into the Blue Hole, an artesian well that’s always 62 degrees, then tiptoe out again.

Turkeys on Route 66, Newkirk, N.M.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

In Albuquerque, I roll past many blighted blocks on Central Avenue, then jog 65 miles northwest to sample the art and wealth of Santa Fe.

In the farmers market there, I give public poet William Curius $20 to pound out a Route 66 poem on his Royal typewriter. In 20 minutes, he comes up with a solid effort, but it’s nothing compared to his answer when I ask his age.

“I don’t identify with age. This is how you die. Counting each year.”

In Petrified Forest National Park — the only national park directly on the route — I hike among red rocks and howling wind.

By the time I reach Williams, Ariz., several people have told me that the European travelers know more about Route 66 than the Americans do. So when I see four guys from Greece on the sidewalk, I try that idea on them. Alex Andros, age 30, nods immediately.

“If you come to Greece,” he says,”you probably know more Greek mythology than us. So that makes sense.”

Now we arrive at Seligman, Ariz. It’s tiny, with a population south of 800. But in the lore of Route 66, Seligman is big. Because of Angel Delgadillo.

By 1985, though the roadway was still mostly intact, Route 66 was officially obsolete, decommissioned as a federal highway. Starved for visitors, Seligman was dying. But Delgadillo, a barber with deep roots in the town, had an idea. He and his wife, Vilma, rallied business people from nearby towns to seek historic status for their stretch of Route 66. After they prevailed, they started a statewide organization and set a national movement in motion.

Angel & Vilma Delgadillo’s Original Route 66 Gift Shop on Route 66 through Seligman, Ariz. (Mark Lipczynski / For The Times)

Scenes from Route 66 in Williams, Ariz. (Mark Lipczynski / For The Times)

The Delgadillos’ business, now a gift shop, endures on Seligman’s main drag, as do Vilma and Angel, who celebrated his 99th birthday in April. Two daughters help run the shop, which includes an old barber chair where you can sit for a selfie.

The westernmost stretch of 66 in Arizona is a driver’s dream and a magnet for motorcycles. Those 158 miles make up the longest-surviving continuous stretch of Old 66, beginning just east of Seligman, veering away from the railroad tracks, cutting through Kingman, twisting and turning through Oatman and the Black Mountains, eventually rejoining I-40 at the state line.

Then it’s time to cross the Colorado River. Roar through Needles. Pause at the Roy’s sign in Amboy for dusk. Crash for the night in Barstow.

At San Bernardino’s Wigwam Motel, I wind up chatting with a mother-daughter duo of Canadian travelers.

“I was against coming down,” admits Sharon Prinz, 75, of British Columbia.

1.) The stretch of old Route 66 between Kingman and Topock in western Arizona is known as “Arizona Sidewinder” for its 191 turns, often without guardrails. The old mining town of Oatman, known for its roaming donkeys, is on the way. (Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times) 2.) The Magic Lamp Inn in Rancho Cucamonga. (David Fouts / For The Times) 3.) Foothill Drive-In sign on the campus of Azusa Pacific University. (David Fouts / For The Times)

“It’s a timing thing,” says Wendy Prinz, 51, who talked her mom into coming. “If you put off something for a year, you might never get the chance.”

The end is near, and I’m feeling like a marathoner at Mile 25. Creeping along Foothill, Colorado, Sunset and Santa Monica boulevards, I scan the scene for old signs. Rancho Cucamonga’s Magic Lamp Inn! Azusa’s Foothill Drive-In! (But there is no drive-in, just the sign.)

And then, at dusk, it appears: the Santa Monica Pier and the sign declaring I’ve reached the “end of the trail.”

All those miles. Yet already, I’m making a mental list of stops to add and detours to try next time.

A sign marking the end of Route 66 on the Santa Monica Pier.

(David Fouts / For The Times)

“It’s so easy to use up all your time and end up running behind,” says Ian Bowen, manager of the pier’s 66 to Cali kiosk. “It took me six years to do the whole road.” And then, he adds, “you become part of the community.”

And you see how, in so many ways, the road is one long small town. When Brenda at the Midpoint Cafe in Texas sends a guest westward with a coconut cream pie for Robert and Dawn at the Blue Swallow Motel, Robert and Dawn thank her on Facebook (“It’s like a hug in a box”) and scores of roadies applaud. When Angel Delgadillo turns 99, West Side Lilo’s Cafe is ready with carrot cake. After Beth Hilburn adds a giant outside her Hi-Way Cafe, Mary Beth Babcock heads over from Tulsa to Vinita to say hi.

And when a rookie roadie finishes his first 66 trip, he has to wonder: Who will be out there this summer? Will it be enough to keep this fragile recovery going?

If this is the story of America’s Main Street, what’s the next chapter?

The problem is not where to find photos on Route 66. The problem is putting down the camera, especially during this centennial year, when the road is dressed up with more lights, banners, murals and fresh paint than it has seen for decades.

Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road

Travelers may be tempted to just keep snapping. But for better results on every level, say hello and ask questions first. Here are a few more photo tips along with an east-to-west gallery of what our photographers and I found on the road:

• You can’t be everywhere at dusk, when the neon signs blaze, so be strategic (and maybe plan for an early dinner or a late one).
• Use a solid tripod (for long exposures), stay off the road, and be sure to try a variety of exposure times. (Neon is tricky.)
• If you see a roadside image that needs your attention, pull over, park legally and step away from the vehicle. The result will be better and all will be safer.
• Besides the freedom of road-tripping, the spirit of Route 66 is about independent businesses bucking the odds on the road less traveled. If we all take pictures without spending, those businesses won’t last long.

Views from Navy Pier in Chicago.

Millennium Park in Chicago.

Route 66 begins in downtown Chicago at Adams Street and Michigan Avenue. Early alignments put it on Jackson Boulevard. Signs mark the spot across the street from the Art Institute of Chicago.

Art Institute of Chicago.

Cigars and Stripes BBQ in Berwyn, Ill., features a Muffler Man smoking a cigar and holding a jumbo bottle of barbecue sauce.

The Gemini Giant stands along Route 66 in Wilmington, Ill.

Atlanta, Ill., is home to the American Giants Museum — which celebrates the Muffler Men and Uniroyal Gals that were common roadside advertising features in the middle 20th century.

Springfield, Ill., is home to the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum and Library. Exhibits takes Lincoln from his Illinois childhood through to the Civil War and his assassination in 1865.

A barn along Route 66 near Carlinville, Ill.

The Wagon Wheel Motel on Route 66 in Cuba, Mo.

The Route 66 Car Museum’s collection includes about 70 vehicles, especially American and European sports cars. Pictured is a 1967 Pontiac Bonneville.

Gary’s Gay Parita, once a service station, won fame over the decades for its hosts’ hospitality. It’s still a popular stop, 25 miles west of Springfield, Mo.

Rockwood Motor Court in Springfield, Mo., dates to 1929. It has been restored and continues to operate.

The Meadow Gold District in Tulsa, Okla.

This fiberglass Rosie the Riveter figure went up on 11th Street in Tulsa in 2025.

Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios occupies a former service station on 11th Street — a.k.a. Route 66 — in Tulsa.

Soda pop bottles line the walls of Pops 66 in Arcadia, Okla.

A car travels down a stretch of the Meadow Gold District in Tulsa, Okla.

The Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza features a bronze sculpture called “East Meets West,” just off the now-closed Cyrus Avery Route 66 Memorial Bridge.

The Round Barn in Arcadia, Okla., stands along Route 66.

National Route 66 Museum and Elk City Museum Complex, Elk City, Okla.

The fastidiously restored U-Drop Inn, a Streamline Moderne filling station and cafe in Shamrock, Texas, is one of the architectural standouts of Route 66. It doesn’t sell gas, though.

Visitors to the Cadillac Ranch art installation in Amarillo, Texas, are allowed to spray-paint the 10 Cadillacs half-buried in the ground there.

The Midpoint Cafe in Vegas, Texas, celebrates the halfway point along Route 66 between Chicago and Los Angeles.

A license plate spotted in Albuquerque.

La Cita, a sombrero-topped restaurant, is one of the most popular eateries in Tucumcari, N.M. It was founded in 1940 and moved to its current location in 1961.

Motel Safari in Tucumcari, N.M., is one among a handful in town that have renovated and upgraded to attract contemporary travelers along Route 66.

Michela Franceschilli and her mom, Carla, came from Rome for their second trip exploring Route 66. They are standing by the Blue Swallow Motel, in Tucumcari, N.M.

From Old Highway 66 near Laguna, N.M., Casa Blanca Road leads to Enchanted Mesa and Acoma Village.

The exterior of Duran Central Pharmacy in Albuquerque.

The combination plate, Christmas-style, at Duran Central Pharmacy.

El Vado Motel is a rescue-and-recovery story on Central Avenue in Albuquerque.

Signs and murals line the roadside as Old Highway 66 passes through Grants, N.M.

The West Theatre in Grants, N.M.

The Painted Desert Trading Post stand west of Chambers, Ariz. The restored building and a stretch of old Route 66 are on private property behind a gate. Travelers call or text a number on the gate to ask for access.

Signage along old Route 66 in Holbrook, Ariz.

The Painted Desert portion of Petrified Forest National Park includes broad vistas and richly varied mineral colors.

Scenes from Route 66 in Williams, Ariz.

Angel & Vilma Delgadillo’s Original Route 66 Gift Shop on Route 66 through Seligman, Ariz.

Aztec Motel and Creative Space in Seligman, Ariz.

Route 66 merch in Seligman, Ariz.

Tin Can Alley is a compound of five rental Airstream trailers in Kingman, Ariz.

The stretch of old Route 66 between Kingman and Topock in western Arizona is known as “Arizona Sidewinder” for its 191 turns, often without guardrails. The old mining town of Oatman, known for its feral donkeys, is on the way.

Oatman, Ariz., is known for its roaming burros, Old West-style storefronts and busy weekends. It stands on a curvy stretch of Route 66 that attracts many motorcyclists and off-road enthusiasts.

El Rancho Motel Sign on the outskirts of Barstow, Calif.

Wigwam Motel off Route 66.

The iconic Roy’s sign stands over old Route 66 at Amboy, Calif., in San Bernardino County. These days Roy’s operates as a gas station, gift shop and snack bar, not a cafe or motel.

The fiberglass statue known as Chicken Boy stands on the roof of artist, designer and gallerist Amy Inouye’s studio on Figueroa Street in Highland Park.

The interior of the Magic Lamp Inn.

The Magic Lamp Inn in Rancho Cucamonga.

Mitla’s Cafe in San Bernardino.

Foothill Drive-In sign on the campus of Azusa Pacific University.

A portion of Route 66 that runs parallel with I-15.

Signs of Route 66 through the town of Oro Grande, Calif.

Elmer’s Bottle Tree Ranch.

The interior of the Formosa Cafe in West Hollywood.

The historic train car at the Formosa Cafe.

Mel’s Drive-In diner in Santa Monica.

Route 66 memorabilia at Mel’s Drive-in diner.

Route 66 Burger at Mel’s Drive-In, a popular stop for Route 66 travelers.

The Santa Monica Pier, which marks the western end of Route 66.

Memorabilia for sale on the Santa Monica Pier.

Scenes from the Santa Monica Pier and the end of Route 66.

A sign marking the end of Route 66 on the Santa Monica Pier.

The entrance to the Santa Monica Pier.

The Santa Monica Pier at dusk.

Route 66 has its tendrils throughout SoCal, and especially in the L.A. area, winding through Pasadena, West Hollywood and culminating in Santa Monica. But the most loving ode to Route 66 may in fact be at the Disneyland Resort, specifically at Disney California Adventure.

Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road

Cars Land opened in 2012 as part of a reworking of the theme park and at long last gave it a striking land that could rival — and in many cases surpass — those of its next-door neighbor, Disneyland. Flanked by sun-scarred, reddish rocks that look lifted from Arizona, Cars Land is a marvel of a theme park land, with its backdrop mountain range ever so slightly nodding to the fins of classic Cadillacs from 1957 to 1962. That design element is a salute to the Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, Texas, where 10 vintage Cadillacs are buried nose-first in the ground that to many resembles a 20th century Stonehenge.

Yet before the area was attached to the 2006 film, it was envisioned as a theme park destination dedicated to roadside attractions and trips along the so-called Mother Road. Cars Land is a make-believe area based on a fictional town from an animated film, but its roots are decidedly real.

Cadillac Ranch, an artwork made from 10 old cars by the Ant Farm artists’ collective in the 1970s, has become one of Amarillo’s top attractions. Visitors are invited to add their own spray-painted touches.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

The backdrop mountain range of Radiator Springs Racers is a nod to Cadillac Ranch. The peaks are designed to look like the tail fins of classic cars.

(Mark Boster / Los Angeles Times)

“We very much acknowledge that up front, that you’re walking down Route 66,” says Kathy Mangum, the retired Walt Disney Imagineer who served as the executive producer of Cars Land.

“But you’re also not walking down a part of Route 66 that exists anywhere,” Mangum continues. “There’s no part of Route 66 where you’re looking up at a Cadillac range surrounded by red rocks. It’s the spirit of Route 66. I wouldn’t even call it a ‘best-of.’ It’s just a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and combined it feels real.”

Tour guide Michael Wallis, left, and Walt Disney Imagineer Kevin Rafferty during a research trip at Cadillac Ranch in 2008.

(Kevin Rafferty)

Before those at Walt Disney Imagineering, the secretive arm of the company devoted to theme park experiences, were even aware that Pixar Animation Studios was working on the “Cars” film, an automotive-focused land was in the planning stages for Disney California Adventure. The park had opened in 2001 and had struggled in its early years to pull in crowds, with audiences zeroing in on a lack of Disneyland-style attractions and an absence of grandly designed vistas.

In an effort to rejuvenate the park, then-Imagineer Kevin Rafferty envisioned an area to be called Car Land — without the “s” — pulling heavily from his family’s road trips and Route 66-like roadside attractions and oddities. Among its standout attractions was to be one initially named Scoot 66, later changed to Road Trip, USA, a slow-moving ride that took guests on a cross-country journey through nature and roadside quirkiness, although its showcase scene would have been a trip trough a miniaturized Carlsbad Caverns, a bit of a detour from Route 66.

“It was kind of tongue-in-cheek,” says Rafferty, now retired, of the never-built ride. “You were going to be seeing all these roadside attractions that would draw you in, like giant bunnies.”

Mater’s Junkyard Jamboree brings the rusty, old tow truck character from the “Cars” movie to life in Cars Land at Disney California Adventure. (Mark Boster / Los Angeles Times)

An artwork in Seligman, Ariz., pays homage to the Disney-Pixar “Cars” movie, which was heavily inspired by the town. (Mark Lipczynski / For The Times)

Rafferty believed a place such as Car Land would be ripe for exploration in a Disney park, as it was to be set from the late 1950s to the early 1960s and tap into a collective nostalgia for a time when a vehicle meant the freedom to explore the open road. Cars Land today still has some of that ageless energy, boasting a vintage rock ’n’ roll soundtrack and a strip of a street filled with colorful neon, its lights, especially at night, beckoning guests to come closer.

“The reason why I thought it would fit into a Disney park, especially Disney California Adventure, is because cars are so much a part of the California story,” Rafferty says. “Cars are designed in California, even though they’re built elsewhere. There’s more custom shops in California. There’s more design studios in California. There’s more car clubs. And all the cars songs. ‘She’s so fine, my 409.’ It was all the Beach Boys and Jan and Dean.”

The neon signs of Radiator Springs. Flo’s V8 Cafe isn’t a direct match for any Route 66 diner, but it was inspired in spirit by the Midpoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas.

(Paul Hiffmeyer / Disneyland Resort)

Development on Rafferty’s Car Land idea would change course when Imagineering and Pixar eventually aligned. But it was also a shift that would more formally ground the area in the culture of Route 66, which heavily influenced the film. Both the filmmakers and, later, those with Imagineering, embarked on 10-day research trips along the road led by historian Michael Wallis, author of “Route 66: The Mother Road.” Those at Pixar, in fact, were so charmed by Wallis’ tours that the author was asked to voice the role of the film’s sheriff.

Wallis says he took the teams out in rented Cadillacs. “I like to stop every 300 yards,” Wallis says. “If I’m doing a road trip, I get into it. So we stopped to move box turtles off the road. I waded them into winter wheat to dance, to pick wild grapes. I introduced them to people that I guaran-damn-tee that they never would have met, the great characters of the road, and I showed them the man-made and natural sites of the road.”

Though the fictional “Cars” and Cars Land community of Radiator Springs has no single inspiration, it echoes the scenery and history of several small towns between Tulsa, Okla., and Kingman, Ariz., including Tucumcari, N.M., Seligman, Ariz., and Oatman, Ariz. And the single, graceful bridge that is centered upon the land’s backdrop mountain range closely resembles Pasadena’s own Colorado Street Bridge, although there’s no roaring waterfall next to the original.

Scenes from Route 66 in Seligman, Ariz. The town was one of the inspirations for the fictional “Cars” and Cars Land town of Radiator Springs.

(Mark Lipczynski / For The Times)

The centerpiece bridge of the Cars Land mountain range was modeled after a local landmark. (Paul Hiffmeyer / Disneyland Resort)

The Colorado Street Bridge in Pasadena, an inspiration for the Cars Land structure. (Adam Markovitz)

Elsewhere, Ramone’s House of Body Art connects with the U-Drop Inn, a 1936 Art Deco gas station in Shamrock, Texas, that now serves as a visitor center and cafe. The Cozy Cone Motel nods to the Wigwam motel chain, which once included seven locations from Kentucky to California. Two remain in business along Route 66: the Wigwam in San Bernardino and another in Holbrook, Ariz.

While Imagineers had visual references from the animated film, Mangum says the research trip was invaluable in lending authenticity to the park.

“We could walk into a building in Shamrock, Texas, that looks so much like what Ramone’s House of Body Art looks like and see that those tiles are made of raised terra-cotta,” Mangum says. “So we could get the actual texture. It’s a movie world, but it’s also a real world.”

Flo’s V8 Cafe isn’t a direct match with any Route 66 eatery, the Imagineers say, but was certainly influenced in spirit by the Midpoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas.

The Midpoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas, celebrates the halfway point on Route 66 between Chicago and Los Angeles.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

“We sampled all their pies and food and made copious notes on this stuff,” Rafferty says. “The two women who owned the Midpoint Cafe had what they said was their mother’s recipe for ‘ugly crust pies.’ We fell in love with ugly crust pies. I met with the head chef of Disneyland, who was a Frenchman at the time, and I said we wanted to serve ugly crust pies at Flo’s V8 Cafe. And he said, ‘No, no, no, nothing at Disneyland will be ugly.’”

No, but it may be influenced by abandoned buildings. Mangum says a key locale for the land was the deserted structures of Two Guns, Ariz. Gas station remains led to sketches that would inspire parts of the “Stanley’s Oasis” area of the Radiator Springs Racers queue, which Rafferty and company filled out with an oil service station and then a building composed of empty oil bottles. The story goes that Stanley’s Oasis is a roadside attraction settlement that led to the development of the town of Radiator Springs.

At the Cozy Cone Motel, a string of cone-shaped food stalls sell quick bites such as swirled soft-serve cones. (Stephanie Breijo / Los Angeles Times)

The Cozy Cone is based on the real-life Wigwam Motels. (Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

“That kind of Route 66-inspired story was all made up,” Rafferty says. “It wasn’t in the film.” That backstory, however, would inform the 2012 short “Time Travel Mater.”

The enduring strength of the land, however, isn’t just due to the popularity of the animated properties that led to it. While Route 66 wasn’t magic for everyone — the history of the road is dotted with tales of extreme poverty and horrific racism — it’s become romanticized as a slice of Americana and stands as a jumping-off point to further delve into our past.

The land is, in a word, timeless. It’s also representative of the ideal of a working small town, the sort of place we forever long for. “It may not be the America of today,” Mangum says, “but in a way it is.”

Times staff writer Christopher Reynolds contributed to this report.

Two-thousand, four-hundred and forty-eight miles. That was the span of Route 66 when highway officials stitched it together to link Chicago, Los Angeles and countless cities and towns in between. But as an enduring American symbol, this highway reaches much further than that, inspiring books, songs, movies and countless road trips.

It turns 100 this year, so with summer coming, we drove it all.

Across eight states, we scouted out vintage motels, new businesses, neon signs, friendly Muffler Men, road food, vivid characters and 20th century ruins. We also kept our eyes open for hints of the road’s evolution, from the Dust Bowl years, segregation and the postwar boom to the freeway-era slump and the reemergence of Route 66 as a long, winding and living historic landmark.

Now we’re taking you along for the ride. If you’ve ever daydreamed about covering some part of the famous roadway, hop on in and let’s get our kicks, shall we?

The snow was flying sideways and he had no jacket, but this lumberjack did not shiver. He stood about 25 feet tall, ax in hand, wearing a red hat and rictus grin. And he was made of fiberglass.

I stood at his feet on the Northern Arizona University campus in Flagstaff, full of the satisfaction that comes at having accomplished something truly trivial: At last, I was face to face with the original Muffler Man.

Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road

Easter Island has its stone-faced monoliths. China has its terra-cotta warriors. And we Americans have these roadside giants, also known as Paul Bunyans, Uniroyal Gals and most commonly, Muffler Men. Manufactured in Los Angeles, they first appeared on the highways of North America in the early 1960s as an advertising gimmick, often promoting car lots or car parts. Now they’re rising again, a battalion of restored and replica specimens, beloved by road-trippers, kitsch aficionados, artists, preservationists and savvy entrepreneurs.

“To me, they’re kind of instant friends,” said Amy Inouye, the designer and artist who rescued L.A.’s most iconic Muffler Man, Chicken Boy, a chicken-headed statue that stands atop her gallery in Highland Park. “They’re really tall and they just want to be accepted for who they are.”

The Northern Arizona University campus in Flagstaff includes the first oversize fiberglass Muffler Man, who has long been outfitted as a lumberjack.

These figures are especially plentiful along Route 66 this year as it turns 100 — there was a “pre-centennial frenzy” in the words of roadsideamerica.com, which coined the term “Muffler Men” and tracks them on a map. Nobody’s certain how many figures were made during the golden age of Muffler Men, but since 2020, the tally of giants has climbed above 250, including “a few dozen” rediscoveries since 2010, according to Doug Kirby, the co-founder and publisher of the site.

“Just in the last year or two, all these Muffler Men are being added,” he said. In addition, more than a dozen giants are currently in transition — that is, getting reconditioned or relocated.

1.) Cigars and Stripes BBQ in Berwyn, Ill., features a Muffler Man smoking a cigar and holding a jumbo bottle of barbecue sauce. 2.) The Gemini Giant stands along Route 66 in Wilmington, Ill.

On a recent westbound journey from Chicago on Route 66, I started seeing them almost immediately.

First, on Ogden Avenue in the Chicago suburb of Berwyn, there was the Cigars & Stripes Muffler Man. He stood on the roof of the Cigars & Stripes BBQ Lounge, brandishing a chicken wing and a fridge-size bottle of barbecue sauce while chewing on a stogie.

Next, in Wilmington, Ill., came the Gemini Giant, who stands 23 feet tall above a tiny park. Made for a Wilmington diner in 1965, he was auctioned off for $275,000 in early 2024 and placed in his current location later that year. He wears a clunky silver space helmet and holds a rocket in his hands.

I had come across a few Muffler Men before this trip, including Big Josh, who looks down upon Joshua Tree from the Station gift shop on State Route 62. But now I was paying more attention.

At first, I learned, these giants were all men, conceived around 1962 by a Lawndale entrepreneur named Bob Prewitt and made popular from the early 1960s through the mid-1970s by a company in Venice called International Fiberglass.

Made from a standard set of molds and held together by steel frames, most Muffler Men are assembled from three or four pieces. Besides those figures holding mufflers and tires, others were outfitted as cowboys, Indians, lumberjacks (often known as Paul Bunyans), astronauts, chefs, dentists, golfers, hot dog vendors, race-car drivers, pirates and service-station attendants. Then there were the jug-eared goofball characters, which some scholars of the art form call halfwits, while others prefer snerds.

As interest in this kind of advertising grew, female giants followed, including Uniroyal Gals and Rosie the Riveters. Oversized animals, including dinosaurs, bulls, roosters, hens and seals, also multiplied.

Juni Peraza, 25, works at the Meadow Gold Mack retail shop on 11th Street in Tulsa, Okla. She said she has only recently realized the possibilities that come with 11th Street being part of Route 66.

All that action faded in the 1970s. But in about 1989, the seeds of a new Muffler Man era were sown.

Kirby, Mike Wilkins and Ken Smith, who had worked together on the 1985 book “Roadside America,” were building a database for a follow-up project when they realized, “Hey, wait, this configuration of statue we’re seeing in a lot of places,” Kirby said. “We decided we’d better start keeping track.”

The first few they saw were holding mufflers. Thinking of the old nursery rhyme “Muffin Man,” and a Frank Zappa song of the same name, Kirby decided to call them Muffler Men.

When the roadsideamerica.com website launched in 1996, Muffler Men were part of it. By 2000, Roadside America had uncovered their origin story and interviewed Steve Dashew, former president of International Fiberglass. And readers had embraced the giants in a big way.

This fiberglass Rosie the Riveter figure went up on 11th Street in Tulsa in 2025.

“It was like a religious epiphany for some people. For years, they were driving past these things,” Kirby said. “As soon as they realized it was part of an uncharted network across the country … it’s like your third eye has been opened.”

Ken Bernstein, principal city planner for Los Angeles Office of Historic Resources, calls Muffler Men “monumental and distinctive representations of midcentury car culture, especially along auto-centric corridors where it was important to catch the eye of passing motorists.”

New giants, known as custom jobs, are being steadily manufactured now. There’s an entire economic community emerging around their restoration, replication, sales, transport and display, including companies like (Re)Giant and sculptor Mark Cline’s Enchanted Castle Studios. (To confuse matters, many Southern California mechanics woo customers by welding together mufflers to make human figures. Those creations, too, are often called Muffler Men.)

The American Giants Museum in Atlanta, Ill., created in 2024 by Bill Thomas of the Atlanta Betterment Fund and collector-historian Joel Baker, is devoted to the fiberglass figures. The museum, open April through October, includes four standing Muffler Men, with two more expected around Memorial Day.

Because the giants stand in the open air, visitors who show up after hours — as I did — can ogle them any time.

Atlanta, Ill., is home to the American Giants Museum, which celebrates the Muffler Men and Uniroyal Gals that were common roadside advertising features in the middle 20th century.

“I love history. I love anything to do with cars and old advertisements. I think it just takes people back,” said Lee Woods, 55, who jumped on the Muffler Men bandwagon about five years ago and owns the museum.

Woods and his wife, Diane, who have a fleet of tow trucks in Hot Springs, Ark., were collecting old porcelain gas station signs, gas pumps and old cars in 2021 when, on a drive through Illinois, they laid eyes on the Gemini Giant.

“I told my wife I would love to have one of them things to represent our tow company,” Woods recalled.

Before long, they had hired someone to build a custom tow-truck-operator Muffler Man. And before that Muffler Man was done, Lee Woods had bought another one — a Paul Bunyan in Oklahoma. Then in 2023 he got a hold of a Muffler Man Mr. Spock from Rainbow Neon in Salt Lake City. Now Woods has eight Muffler Men in Arkansas.

“Sometimes I get carried away, my wife says,” Woods said.

Last fall, he bought the museum, where he collaborates with Baker, who is founder of the American Giants website, creator of a Giants YouTube series and serves as a Muffler Man broker, consultant and transportation specialist.

“When people see these things, they think they’re the coolest thing out there,” Woods said. “Today we’ve had people from six different countries here.”

1.) Cowboy Bob, who is about 20 feet tall, plays guitar and wears a bolo tie, is one of several oversize fiberglass mascots along 11th Street in the Meadow Gold District of Tulsa. 2.) Meadow Gold Mack, a friendly lumberjack, is mascot for a shop of the same name on 11th Street in Tulsa. 3.) A Muffler Man near Gearhead Curios in Galena, Kan. 4.) The 2nd Amendment Cowboy is a fiberglass giant that stands at the entrance to a trailer park near the art installation Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, Texas.

From here, the giants seemed to come fast and furious. One in Galena, Kan. Two in Vinita, Okla. (which has since added a third). Five in Tulsa’s Meadow Gold District (including one with an 8-foot-long guitar).

Then in Weatherford, Okla., came a 30-foot astronaut. In Amarillo, a “2nd Amendment Cowboy” with a pair of big pistols at his feet. In Gallup, N.M., a giant on the roof of a used car lot.

By the time I’d reached Flagstaff, my count was 18.

Then came my snowy moment with the original Muffler Man, whose nickname is Louie. Experts agree that he was produced in about 1963 and sent to a Flagstaff cafe with a lumberjack theme (and yes, that cafe stood along Route 66).

Louie stood there until the cafe closed more than 10 years later. Then he was donated to NAU and stationed by the ticket office of the university’s Walkup Skydome. Another lumberjack stands inside.

But after Louie, I hit a drought — no more giant sightings in Arizona and none on the Route 66 alignment I followed into Southern California.

This seemed wrong, because there are so many giants along the byways of Southern California and because this is the land of their birth. Besides Big Josh, there’s the Paul Bunyan in Mentone, the empty-handed Muffler Man known as Kevin on Sherman Way in Van Nuys. There’s the flag-wielding Porsche Muffler Man in Carson (who previously served in the same spot as a club-brandishing Golf Man). And there are plenty of others.

It didn’t seem right to end the journey without another sighting. So I made my way to Highland Park to meet the one who rules the roost.

More specifically, I headed for 5558 N. Figueroa St., which was on the path of Route 66 for several years in the 1930s and which is the home of Chicken Boy.

Blessed with the customized head of a chicken, the body of a Muffler Man and a bucket in his hands (for eating chicken?), Chicken Boy stood for years atop the Chicken Boy fried-chicken restaurant on Broadway downtown, inspiring writer Art Fein to label him “L.A.’s Statue of Liberty.”

After the restaurant was shuttered in 1984, Inouye swooped in to rescue Chicken Boy and place him in protective storage — for years, as it turned out.

The fiberglass statue known as Chicken Boy stands on the roof of artist, designer and gallerist Amy Inouye’s studio on Figueroa Street in Highland Park.

In October 2007, after she and longtime partner Stuart Rapeport had bought the Highland Park studio space and pulled permits, Inouye put Chicken Boy back together again and set him up on the roof. There he remains, sharing space with a billboard, visible up and down the block between Avenue 55 and Avenue 56.

If a nomination by L.A. preservationist Charles J. Fisher goes through, Chicken Boy could become the first Muffler Man declared a city historic-cultural monument. And if you drop by the Future Studio Gallery on a Saturday between noon and 3 p.m. or 4 p.m., you’ll likely find Inouye, now 74, along with a trove of Chicken Boy T-shirts, patches, pencils and ceramic treasure boxes.

But seeing Chicken Boy is its own reward, especially after seeing so many of his fiberglass cousins. I got there on a balmy afternoon, beheld Chicken Boy’s beak gleaming in the sun, and knew my mission was complete.

Ian Bowen is manager of the “66 to Cali” shop/kiosk on the Santa Monica Pier. Many travelers go to the kiosk for the Route 66 “passports” and certificates of completion.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

Beyond the merry-go-round and before the Ferris wheel on Santa Monica Pier, Ian Bowen does business in a snug kiosk overstuffed with souvenirs, guidebooks and replica highway signs. The whole structure measures about 77 square feet. But the idea behind it sprawls for miles and keeps Bowen talking for hours on end: Route 66.

The 66 to Cali kiosk is owned by Dan Rice, who started the business in 2009 after years of travels on the Mother Road. But Bowen, 35, has been managing it for 10 years, making sales, offering advice and hearing travelers’ tales, which almost always come with surprises. He calls himself “a bona fide nerd about Route 66.”

“It took me six years to do the whole road and finish my last stretch in Arcadia, Oklahoma,” Bowen said between customers one recent night. Rather than cover more than 2,400 miles in a single trip, he has done what many American “roadies” do: biting off one chunk at a time. Before you know it, he said, “you become part of the community.”

That became obvious as Bowen flipped through the photo albums he keeps in the kiosk. There’s Harley Russell, ribald proprietor and performer at the Sandhills Curiosity Shop in Erick, Okla. There’s Fran Houser, the late, widely beloved proprietor of the Midpoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas. And there’s Bowen getting a haircut from Angel Delgadillo, the Seligman, Ariz., barber, now 99, who kicked off a resurgence of interest in Route 66 in 1987 with a call for historical recognition.

This is not the career Bowen planned for; he studied to be an industrial designer. But now that he’s in the business of celebrating Route 66, he sees it, and other highways like it, as a launching pad for independent businesses, a lifeline for small towns and an antidote to the isolation of contemporary society.

“The old roads aren’t just about nostalgia,” Bowen says on his website. “They’re about creativity, honest work, investing in ourselves and our communities, and the notion that effort is rewarded.”

For those considering a Route 66 trip, Bowen has advice of all kinds.

Want an old-school meal along the route in Santa Monica? Bowen will point you toward Bay Cities Italian Deli & Bakery, which opened in 1925.

A lunch spot near Elmer’s Bottle Tree Ranch in Oro Grande? Cross-Eyed Cow Pizza, said Bowen, is just down the road.

The backstory on Bobby Troup’s song “Route 66?” Bowen can tell you that Nat King Cole recorded it in early 1946 in a studio at 7000 Santa Monica Blvd. And that address, now occupied by the Jeffrey Deitch art gallery, is actually on Route 66.

Whatever your itinerary, Bowen urges a loose schedule, leaving plenty of room for discoveries and unplanned conversations. Otherwise, “it’s so easy to use up all your time and end up running behind,” he said.

One recent Friday, Leonidas Georgiou, 36, stepped up to the kiosk, brimming with enthusiasm.

Georgiou, who lives in Athens, only learned about Route 66 last year “from an influencer on Greek TikTok.” But once he heard about it, he acted fast. Georgiou plotted a U.S. trip, recruited his mom to ride shotgun and picked up a rented Mazda SUV in Chicago. They made the drive in 23 days, with detours to Las Vegas and Monument Valley and a stop at the Walter White house (from “Breaking Bad”) in Albuquerque.

The varying weather and landscape, Georgiou said, made it feel like a four-season trip. Several times, in cities where hotels seemed too pricey or too sketchy, he and his mom slept in their SUV. Before Bowen could speak up, Georgiou added that he’s a police officer in Athens, and that he chose their spots carefully. Georgiou’s mother, who didn’t speak much English, nodded in affirmation.

“Instead of spending $40 each and getting bedbugs, it’s better to sleep in the car,” Georgiou said. And in the larger picture, he said, it was important to give the trip all the time it needed.

“This is a lifetime journey,” Georgiou said.

Bowen nodded and smiled. Another 66 traveler, another set of surprises.

Route 66 was 20 years old and World War II had just ended when Bobby Troup, an aspiring songwriter from Pennsylvania, decided to go west. As it turned out, that drive in early 1946 did more than anyone could have imagined to establish the road as a symbol of footloose American freedom.

Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road

Troup, 25 at the time, had already earned an economics degree from the University of Pennsylvania, written a hit song (1941’s “Daddy,” sung by Sammy Kaye), worked for bandleader Tommy Dorsey and served as a Marine through the war years. But to restart his career as a songwriter and actor, he believed that he needed to be in Los Angeles. So he and his wife, Cynthia, pointed their 1941 Buick toward California.

They started on U.S. 40, then picked up Route 66 in Illinois. Along the way, as Troup told author Michael Wallis in the book “Route 66: The Mother Road,” Cynthia came up with a phrase she thought was songworthy.

Bobby Troup, composer of the hit song “Route 66” and grand marshal of Duarte, Calif.’s Salute to Route 66 parade, rides in a 1948 Buick convertible and waves to fans in 1996.

(Louisa Gauerke / Associated Press)

“Get your kicks on Route 66,” she said.

Troup took it from there, creating “a kind of musical map of the highway.”

As Troup later recalled in an introduction to a Route 66 book by Tom Snyder, they heard Louis Armstrong play a club in St. Louis, stopped at Meramec Caverns in Missouri and found that “a good part of the highway was absolutely miserable — narrow, just two lanes, and very twisting through the Ozarks and Kansas.” Then came a snowstorm in Texas.

By the end of the drive, the up-tempo tune was half-done. Then, not quite a week after arrival, Troup landed a chance to pitch a few songs to Nat “King” Cole, who had already won fame with hits including “Sweet Lorraine” and “Straighten Up and Fly Right.”

They were sitting by a piano on stage — after Cole’s last set of the night at the Trocadero on Sunset Strip — when the nervous young songwriter decided to share his unfinished road song.

“I got up on the riser, pulled the piano bench back a little bit — and it went over the side and I fell over backwards,” Troup confessed in a later interview.

Still, Cole “loved it,” Troup recalled. “As a matter of fact, he got on the piano with me and played it.”

This was February. By mid-March, the song was done and Cole was recording it in a studio on Santa Monica Boulevard, part of Route 66.

The finished version name-checked a dozen cities along the route, including these words:

Now you go through Saint Looey

Joplin, Missouri,

And Oklahoma City is mighty pretty.

You see Amarillo,

Gallup, New Mexico,

Flagstaff, Arizona.

Don’t forget Winona,

Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino.

Won’t you get hip to this timely tip

When you make that California trip

Get your kicks on Route 66.

In April, Capitol Records released “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66” and the tune quickly rose to #11 on the Billboard chart of top-selling singles. Before 1946 was out, it had been recorded again, this time by Bing Crosby with the Andrews Sisters. That version went to #14.

Musicians Nat “King” Cole, left, and Bing Crosby, circa 1945.

(NBC / NBCU Photo Bank / NBCUniversal via Getty Images via Getty Images)

Coming just as postwar America was rediscovering leisure travel, the song was a big hit — and for many, a painful irony. Even with guidance from the Green Book used by many African American travelers in those days, it would have been deeply risky — and illegal in some places — for any Black man, Nat King Cole included, to eat and sleep on Route 66. This was a year before Jackie Robinson integrated baseball’s major leagues, two years before the U.S. Army was integrated.

As Candacy Taylor puts it in her 2020 book “Overground Railroad: The Green Book and the Roots of Black Travel in America,” “the open road wasn’t open to all.” Into the 1950s, Taylor writes, “about 35% of the counties on Route 66 didn’t allow Black motorists after 6 p.m.” and six of the eight states on the route still had segregation laws. Cole may have helped sell Route 66, Taylor writes, but “the carefree adventure he was promoting was not meant for him.”

Documentary photographer Candacy Taylor at the New Aster Motel in Los Angeles in 2016. In her book “Overground Railroad,” she writes about the discrimination Black travelers faced while driving on Route 66.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Two years after recording the song, when the increasingly wealthy Cole and his family bought a Hancock Park mansion and became the neighborhood’s first Black homeowners, many neighbors tried to keep him out, poisoned the family dog and burned racist insults into his lawn.

The Coles stayed put. The family was still in that home on South Muirfield Road in 1956, when Cole became the first African American to host a network television show, and in 1965, when Cole died of cancer at 45.

Troup, who later was divorced from Cynthia and married singer/actor Julie London, went on to record more than a dozen albums and had other songs recorded by Little Richard and Miles Davis. As an actor, Troup filled many guest-star roles on television, played Dr. Joe Early on the 1970s TV show “Emergency!” and had a small part in Robert Altman’s 1970 film “MASH.”

Meanwhile, the song kept rolling. As years passed, Perry Como, Sammy Davis Jr., Chuck Berry, the Rolling Stones, the Manhattan Transfer, Michael Martin Murphey, Asleep at the Wheel, Buckwheat Zydeco, Depeche Mode, Glenn Frey, the Brian Setzer Orchestra and John Mayer recorded versions. At different points in the 2006 movie “Cars,” you hear Berry’s and Mayer’s versions. Troup, who died in 1999, never forgot the difference the song made, both in his life and the way people think about the road.

“On the basis of that song, I was able to go out and buy a house and stay in California,” Troup told Wallis. “I never realized when I was putting it together that I was writing about the most famous highway in the world. I just thought I was writing about a road — not a legend.”

The Rolling Stones are among the countless musicians who have recorded versions of “Route 66.”

(David Redfern / Redferns via Getty Images)

Monte Carlo Liquors & Steak House is a lone brick island in a large asphalt lot that sits just over 100 feet from the Central Avenue Bridge that stretches over the Rio Grande in Albuquerque.

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The business’ name says everything: The front of the building lodges a liquor store selling the basic brands of spirits and beer. Around back, an arrow, painted garnet against an otherwise beige facade, points toward a red door sheltered by a small, domed awning. The words “steakhouse entrance” have been stenciled above in letters big enough to be seen two blocks away.

The 56-year-old throwback is often my first stop after landing in New Mexico. I have been traveling to the state regularly since the summer of 1999, when I attended my first of many writing retreats led by Natalie Goldberg, author of “Writing Down the Bones” and many other books. Its northern topography — the enormous sense of space, the way the light moves and colors shift against the mountains and desertscapes — keep me returning.

The 56-year-old throwback Monte Carlo Liquors & Steak House is often my first stop after landing in New Mexico.

Albuquerque, home to the state’s largest airport, is a gateway. It’s also the city with the longest continuous urban stretch of Route 66, named Central Avenue and running nearly 18 miles through its core. Two of my very favorite restaurants in New Mexico reside along this zagging sweep, both quirky and atmospheric and also grounding in their sense of place.

I return to Monte Carlo for two reasons: the honky-tonk atmosphere and the green chile cheeseburger.

Beyond the red door lies the platonic ideal of a Midcentury dive. The windowless dining room remains perpetually dim. Crimson pleather booths line the walls, which are covered with vintage beer signs and framed portraits of Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe … and Guy Fieri, who visited in 2008. A collection of model cars sits behind glass in one corner. It is easy to imagine a near past when cigarette smoke hovered like low cloud cover.

I cannot report on the fried appetizers or char-broiled steaks that comprise much of the menu. Occasionally I order a Greek appetizer — a nod to the heritage of Michael Katsaros, whose family still runs the place — which includes a block of feta sprinkled with oregano, olives, a single rolled grape leaf, slices of tomato and cucumber and, uniquely, thick blocks of salami.

Here’s why I return to Monte Carlo: the honky-tonk atmosphere and the green chile cheeseburger.

Chasing green chile cheeseburgers through New Mexico is sport for food obsessives. Cheryl Jamison, a longtime food writer who lives in Santa Fe, steered me to Monte Carlo years ago.

The staff grounds the beef sirloin daily, a crucial step. Seeds are visible among the chopped roasted chiles, smoky and vegetal and bringing some heat, overlaid with a single square of American cheese melted into place. The sting of a dry gin martini is exactly right between bites.

Is this the best green chile cheeseburger in Albuquerque? Impossible for me to say, but it is an excellent gauge from which to begin a survey.

The dining room is perpetually dim, and crimson pleather booths line the walls, covered with vintage beer signs and framed portraits.

The chile cheeseburger at Monte Carlo.

Wherever you’re headed from Monte Carlo, it’s worth a quick stop to admire the twin Route 66 Rio Grande markers that stand on either side of the nearby bridge. Their adobe color blends so seamlessly into the landscape that you could speed by them without much notice. They were installed in the early 2000s as part of the city’s public art programs. Their tiered form nods to the cloud terrace motif that appears repeatedly in New Mexico’s indigenous Pueblo art and architecture. It’s easiest at night to spy their subtle Route 66 logos lit up in red and green neon.

Red and green are the unofficial state colors of New Mexico, as you’ll see again and again on plates delivered by servers at Duran Central Pharmacy, the finest destination along Central Avenue for immersion into regional cooking.

Indigenous ingredients (corn, beans, squash, game meats, berries and piñon among them) and heavy Spanish colonial influences (chiles were said to have been brought to the area as early as the late 1500s) help define New Mexican cuisine.

Modern restaurant menus, with the familiar enchiladas and tamales and hard-shell tacos, can resemble Tex-Mex, but never say that to a New Mexican local. The chiles delineate culinary borders. “Red or green?” customers will be asked repeatedly. Meaning: Do you want your dish smothered in sauce made from roasted green chiles, or a simmered counterpart fashioned from dried red chile pods?

The combination plate, Christmas style, at Duran’s.

If you want both, as many of us do, the answer is “Christmas.”

At “Duran’s,” as locals call it, see and taste the distinctions on Duran’s combination plate, which includes one beef or chicken taco, one pork tamale and one rolled cheese enchilada with a side of pinto beans. Green has a toothier texture and fresher flavor; red is saucier with dusky, earthen undertones. Try the duo over a hefty knife-and-fork breakfast burrito filled with chorizo, chilaquiles, a bowl of chili or, a special on Wednesdays and Fridays, sopaipillas (pillows of fried dough) blanketed in cheese.

Founded in 1942, Duran originally had a soda fountain that converted to a sit-down restaurant in the 1960s. Touches of Midcentury Modern kitsch, especially a starburst clock on the restaurant’s roadside sign, marks its place along Route 66.

Touches of Midcentury Modern kitsch include a starburst clock on the restaurant’s roadside sign, marking its place along Route 66.

And yes, this building also pulls double duty as a thriving pharmacy. On return visits when I’m feeling too excited about jumping back into New Mexican foodways, I start at Monte Carlo for a cheeseburger and martinis before a second lunch of sopaipillas, “Christmas-style,” at Duran, knowing I can pick up ibuprofen and calcium carbonate for dessert.

Monte Carlo Liquors & Steak House is located at 3916 Central Ave. SW, Albuquerque, (505) 836-9886, monte-carlo-liquors.hub.biz

Duran Central Pharmacy: 1815 Central Ave. NW, Albuquerque, (505) 247-4141, duransrx.com

Famous signs along the nearly 2,500 miles of Route 66 include the 66-foot soda bottle at Pops in Oklahoma, the wagging neon tail of Albuquerque’s Dog House and the hand-painted slogans for Snow Cap Drive-In in Arizona. But in L.A., none is so iconic as the giant looming penguin that signifies milkshakes, burgers, oldies playlists and sheer Americana at the end of the road.

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The Mother Road that stretches from Chicago to the West Coast unofficially ends at the Santa Monica Pier, but at its technical terminus, Mel’s Drive-In declares the “ROUTE ENDS HERE,” inlaid in terrazzo beneath that jumbo tuxedoed penguin. It’s been a beacon for decades, and though the beloved restaurant space recently was listed for sale for $26 million, Mel’s owners hope it remains a diner and destination for generations.

For much of its history, the diner at the end of Route 66 was the 1959-founded Penguin Coffee Shop, a Googie-architecture marvel of angular windows, rock walls and little cartoons of penguins hanging above swivel stools and an open kitchen.

The original penguin sign from the former Penguin Coffee Shop still stands at Mel’s Drive-In in Santa Monica.

As a very young child I remember sliding into the booths with my father, whose office was nearby on Wilshire. Back then, the tall angled ceilings seemed to soar and the breakfast combos looked mountainous.

“It was a Googie kind of restaurant — you know, we don’t have that many of them around anymore,” my dad recalls. “It had an aura of roadside diner about it. … Everybody would see the giant penguin out there. I don’t think Burgess Meredith ever ate there, though.” The joke takes me a beat before landing; my version of Batman’s Penguin will always be Danny DeVito.

“It was a Googie kind of restaurant — you know, we don’t have that many of them around anymore,” the writer’s dad recalls.

We’d visit every month or two, until the Penguin closed its doors in 1991 and transformed into a Western Dental office, which kept the penguin sign but dropped those high ceilings and removed the kitchen along with other hallmarks of its roadside charm. Thankfully, its journey didn’t end there.

The Weiss family, which founded Mel’s Drive-In diner in 1947, had been eyeing the property for years and signed a lease in 2016. Then there was the link to their own history: The prolific Armet & Davis architecture firm designed the Penguin as well as the current home of Mel’s Sherman Oaks.

“When the dentist office went out of business,” said co-owner Colton Weiss, “it seemed like a no-brainer to make it Mel’s and bring it back to the glory days of being a diner.”

What followed were two years of “very expensive” renovations, according to the third-generation Mel’s owner.

Beyond the iconic penguin sign — which obtained “historically or architecturally significant” designation in 2000 — Mel’s pays homage with the large sculptural, custom-made glass globe lights, which replicate the original’s. The Weisses hired garden specialists to review decades-old photos of the Penguin Coffee Shop to determine which varieties of flowers decorated the front of the restaurant, then they replanted them.

Since the building’s reopening in 2018, thousands of guests have ended the journey along Route 66 with a meal in the diner.

While sledgehammering drywall, they uncovered the diner’s original rock wall. Along a hallway near the bathrooms, a small gallery of Penguin Coffee Shop photos offers another glimpse of the predecessor. This location also features a marshmallow-and-chocolate-sauce Penguin Shake in honor of the tuxedoed mascot of the original.

It wasn’t until they were close to signing a deal that they realized it sat along Route 66.

“We’re like Route 66 authorities now,” said Weiss, whose father, Steven Weiss, was largely responsible for the restoration.

Since the building’s reopening in 2018, the owners say thousands of guests have ended their travels with a meal in the diner. They bustle through the doors after the long journey, sometimes bedecked in Route 66 merchandise, and sometimes buying Mel’s own brand of Route 66 merch while there.

Atmosphere and details of Mel’s Drive-In Diner.

“We had a guy do it in a ’67 Chevy, that was on his bucket list: Older guy who did it with his wife, and it was a convertible,” said Weiss. “He did it in summertime, so by the time he showed up he was covered in dust and dirt. He couldn’t be happier to make it to Mel’s and get a burger.”

Another, he said, did the whole route on a bicycle.

The diner offers certificates of completion for those who finish the trek, and devised a burger named for the route. A fish tank at the entrance features a Route 66 theme, as does a mural on a small wall of the parking lot. Two official signs, placed by the city, denote the location’s significance.

“The city knew there’d be renewed interest in a diner being the real ending of Route 66,” Weiss said. “Before, I don’t know anybody who’d want to end their trip at a dentist’s office. Maybe somebody who broke their teeth on the way.”

But the trail’s end could someday see its own end. The property was listed for sale in 2025. Representatives for the building’s management company didn’t respond to requests for comment.

“We’re trying to keep it there as long as possible,” Weiss said. “People really enjoy this location, and it seems like one of the last diners in Santa Monica.” Weiss declined to comment further.

Mel’s assistant manager Yazmin Minguelasays she sees more travelers now because it’s the centennial of Route 66. “But even before that, we still had a lot of visitors.”

She’s worked for Mel’s 22 years, six of which have been spent in the Santa Monica restaurant. Her shifts are full of Westside regulars, celebrities and guests finishing their trip along Route 66.

“Ending on a diner is nostalgia,” my dad mused. “Having a place like Mel’s, which is a substitute for the kind of flea-bitten ptomaine joints that you might get along Route 66, brings back memories to very old people. And very new people ask questions like, ‘Who’s Burgess Meredith?’”

Mel’s Drive-In is open at 1670 Lincoln Blvd., Santa Monica, Sunday to Thursday from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m., and Friday and Saturday from 7 a.m. to midnight.

A MAJOR airline has scrapped one of its routes from the UK due to rising fuel costs.

Lufthansa has announced that it is axing its route between Glasgow and Frankfurt, Germany, this winter as the Iran War continues to affect fuel prices.

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The German flag carrier has already stopped selling flights on the route, with the last direct flight between Glasgow and Frankfurt scheduled for May 31.

A Lufthansa Group spokesman told The Herald: “Following the decision to discontinue Lufthansa CityLine flights effective immediately and to reduce unprofitable flights in the future due to high kerosene prices, the Lufthansa Group’s summer schedule will be reduced by just under one percent of available seat-kilometers.

“To compensate for this, Lufthansa has taken immediate action and will consolidate the flight schedules of all Lufthansa Group airlines, cancelling 20,000 flights by the end of October.

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“As a result of these decisions, flights to Glasgow will no longer be operated by Lufthansa via Frankfurt, but for the time being, by Edelweiss via Zurich offering access to the Swiss International Air Lines network.”

Flights between Glasgow and Frankfurt were first launched back in 2018 and currently there are 13 flights a week.

Lufthansa usually uses an Airbus A320 for this route, with between 168 and 180 seats.

As a result, this would mean the route carries as many as 2,340 passengers a week or 9,360 passengers over a month.

The airline previously announced that it plans to cancel more than 20,000 flights this summer as a result of rising fuel costs.

Most of the routes impacted will be short haul, with the airline also shutting down its subsidiary airline, CityLine.