I grew up just six blocks off U.S. 66 (Main St.) in Weatherford....As we discuss an El Reno native, we might also remember that El Reno is one of the old highway's most interesting stops... Fort Reno, General Sherman's office there at the park, the prison, the P.O.W. camp, the historic downtown and the still magnificent onion burgers at Robert's, among others. Oh, and Consumer's at the turn.

Every visit back to Oklahoma will bring me once again to that road, even if just a small piece of it. In my lifetime, I think I've been on every mile from Chicago to L.A. I can't be sure, but the best driving on 66 and the most interesting sites seem still to be in Oklahoma...

The burgers aren't seven for $1 at Robert's anymore, but they're still a great bargain.

it just goes to show how much there is worth seeing in oklahoma. el reno is a good example. neat downtown, neat historic fort, and 66 on to calumet, geary, bridgeport and hydro will show some amazing things. you'll see what is left of 66 as a modern state highway, as an all-but abandoned country road, as an access road for i 44, and as a 4 lane highway.

How comforting and enjoyable reading this article and all of the previous posts has been. I lived on Route 66 most of my life beginning in Gallup/Ft. Wingate, NM in 1954 and ending up in El Reno until 1983. I remember as a child traveling Route 66 back and forth between New Mexico and Oklahoma/Arkansas as this is where my grandparents resided. I remember traveling with an uncle that had a convertible Thunderbird (50-something model)and letting the top down and just kicking back and taking in all of the scenery. Those were the days. Anytime I head west I travel as much of the original Route 66 as is accessible. Hats off to Larry (whom I went to high school with)and all of the people that are so nostalgic and concerned with the preservation of Route 66. I consider Route 66 one of America's greatest adventures, then and now. It seems like those days spent on Route 66 were the most peaceful days of my life.

I am 82, raised eight miles south of "66", half way between Mustang and Union City. Remember sitting with my grandfather in front of Dunn's grocery store, facing "66", watching and listening to the trucks shift gears traveling west on "66", upgrade through Yukon, OK. In 1952 was employed by State Farm Ins., adjuster, worked numerous claims, several very serious injury, or death claims which came from accidents on the old two lane highway. Continued working that territory, and all the counties it passed through for 25 years. For the next 9 years I only went as far west as Weatherford, OK, unless something very major happened farther west. Saw lots of changes occur in Erik, Sayre, Elk City, Canute, Weatherford,Bridgeport,El Reno, Bethany, and western Oklahoma City. Lots of good people lived along that road, and off to both sides several miles. That highway was really my second home, and the residents along the way my "other" family. God bless them all.
Raymond Ebeling
Olathe, KS

Some of my earliest recollections were from my family life that seemed to be so closely connected to Route 66.
We lived in Amarillo, where Route 66 became Amarillo Boulevard -- a busy conglomeration of businesses catering to travelers along the busy east-west route.
On occassion, we'd travel west to visit family and the best way to Tucumcari and my grandparent's house was Route 66.
I loved 66 when it finally dropped off the table top Caprock of Texas into the sagebrush and Yucca filled mesa land of New Mexico.
My grandfater, an eastern New Mexico farmer/rancher, would drive his old, green Ford pickup down Route 66 at 45mph. We'd sit on the dropped tailgate, drinking water from the old oilbag that the oldtimers would drap from the radiator cap, and occassionally touch/drag one shoe on the old road just because we could.
Those tourist's cars hurriedly on their way west (there was no Interstate in those days), would rapidly pile up behind my slow-moving granddad's pickup, waiting for their chance to pass on the busy, two lane artery. We'd see the occupants as they, one by one, moved up for their turn to pass. We'd wave and smile. They'd wave and smile.
Everyone seemed to be resigned to the fact that as soon as they passed one slow vehicle, another one was just ahead.
I don't recall any angry drivers in those memories.

My grandparents actually moved to another home that was right alongside Route 66. From that home, I could see the constant stream of cars, each with their own story, going both ways. "How exciting it must be", I'd wonder. "Where are they going? To the golden beaches of California or big cities back east?" Every car had an exciting story to me.

My grandmother ran a small cafe on the very eastern edge of Tucumcari, N.M. that was a part of the Whiting Bros. Gas Station property.
Whiting Bros. had the widest advertising signs along 66. They were the Burma Shave of New Mexico.

I distinctly remember traveling to Tucumcari from Amarillo. Near San Jon, NM, there was a copse of trees in the dry dessert scrub -- an oasis of stations, auto repair shops and restaurants right on the state line. There was nothing else around for miles.
While Dad gassed the car or grabbed a brown bag of hamburgers, we kids would jump from Texas to New Mexico across the state line painted in the road.

Seeing Tucumcari mountain first was another game my siblings and I would play each time we travelled along the otherwise boring, last-forever, two hour drive.

The boredom of the road soon was replaced by excitement as we neared our destination.
I remember coming into Tucumcari at dusk. It was like seeing a shining, glowing, mini-Las Vegas. Route 66 dropped ever so slightly, revealing a shallow valley the town lay in. The colorful neon of reds, blues, yellows and greens burst so bright against the flatblack, lightless desert surrounding Tucumcari.

Motels like The Palamino, The Blue Bird and The Thunderbird were glowing and full of cars. "No Vacancy" was on every motel sign by that time of night.
The restaurant parking lots were packed. The Drive-In was being driven around by a constant stream of cars looking for a quick bite.
The TeePee Curios Shop was always fun to stop into to not only see the Indian curios and Japanese junk, but to watch the wide variety of tourist passing through.
There was such an energy about town as travelers heading in both directions made their way around the various curios shops, restaurants and gas stations in this once bustling town.
It was a golden age for small towns along 66.
Then one day the Interstate came -- promising non-stop, time-saving, gas-saving advantage.
I-40 swung past the town to the south. Tucumcari, Santa Rosa, San Jon and all the other similar small towns were never the same.
Old Route 66 in Tucumcari is a shell of it's former self. Some of the old motels are still there. Some of the neon is burned out, the signs and motels in need of painting, the curios shops are like an aging starlet desperately longing for a return to the glory days.
The feeling of euphoria has been replaced by a feeling of "hang on".
Remembering the old Route 66, I can still hear the old TV show's theme song running through my head, it has become a metaphor of my life.
The good old days, the slower pace of life, the warm, wonderful memories are simply being replaced by newer, faster, busier ones -- none as warm or as idyllic.
When I think of a time in my life when there was not a worry or care, having my family and time to enjoy them was all I needed, and being at peace, I think of those halcion days that were Route 66.