ROUTE 66: STAGE 3, SPRINGFIELD - MIAMI

For ordinary mortals the third stage of Route 66, for us the first! This is how special we are going to do. Our first contact with the asphalt of this emblematic route was made to wait and perhaps for that reason, to have it so close but so far, to keep us with that tension, we enjoyed it as two champions.

We come from the north, from the great plains, from the states of Iowa and Missori, to reach Springfield, turn right at the exit of the city and see the sign for the first time, the one that looks like the Barça shield but with a 66 written inside. And without being able to avoid it we shout for joy at the same time Yepaaaaaa! Route 66, here we are!

Not even 20 meters pass when we make the first stop:

Although the real stop was in the mythical Gay Parita gas station, where John received us after getting off his lawn mower (the thing about lawn mowers in the United States is a case), with a smile and enormous kindness. But majete! He explained a little where we were and invited us to throw the photos we wanted, that we were in our house, in addition to offering us a drink or anything we needed. At that time we were the only ones in this gas station-museum, but little happened until a Missouri countryman arrived with his wife mounted on a polt of the year, making a noise of the devil, but with a smile just as wide as the of his friend. Cool people!

Before leaving, John gave us some great postcards and ice cream! He advised us to stop by Spencer's Gas Station and later on Red Oak II, the first one we skipped because of a miscalculation (rookie stuff), but the second one didn't work out! And thank goodness: strolling through the streets of Red Oak II is like doing it through a ghost town, a shooting scene or a theme park but without people! It's crazy what Lowell has built with his own hands! We met his wife and his dogs, lovely, also the burricos of the plot next door who came out super happy to greet us, and the cows of three plots beyond ... and the neighbor's peacock ... no, this was quite unfriendly the truth . We felt in a place from another era, as if our motorhome had worn the tires of the Delorian by Marty McFly and returned to the past.

The place has a very curious history: Lowell Davis grew up in the small town of Red Oak (Missouri), his life there describes it in a phrase “The neighbors helped the neighbors, they all had a garden and kept their own food, they had a Dairy cow and they had even made their own clothes. Seen this way from the perspective of our day, they were poor, but they didn't know it! ” Life was simpler before progress changed everything forever, his people like others did not survive the exodus to the cities and Lowell had no idea but to buy some of the houses that were still standing, transfer them to his farm 23 miles to the south and restore them to their original state. The result: judge yourself:

The Route 66 was discontinued in 1984, the same one I was born in, but had fallen into disuse long before. Although there was never a lack of groups of defenders and nostalgic people who still want her for what she is: Mother Road. Who would tell all these carriages that a cartoon movie would give Route 66 a halo of life, a new resurgence, or at least make it known to the smallest or the most profane, like us. We talk about the movie Cars, which you have probably seen. Well, some of the characters that appear are inspired by real cars, and one of the essential stops is the one that invites you to meet them! Is named Cars on the Route, in Galena (pronounced as a chicken), and there we have the friend Tow "Mate" Mater and on the other side the Doc Hudson replica (the blue one).

We look at the sky and the darkness looms over us, we are surrounded by two pieces of black clouds that remind us that this area, the so-called Tornado Corridor (Tornado Alley) is the one that suffers most from this type of catastrophe in the country. And that some kids ask us if we are tornado hunters do not improve our spirits much. We get into the van fast and get out of there quickly.

Fortunately neither tornadoes nor tornadoes, a little rain, a few lightning bolts and little else, so time respects us even if only until the next stop: Brush Creek Bridge, in Riverton, a white-painted iron bridge that has become one of the route's icons.

Time is getting over us, as we have said on several occasions, the distances in the United States are tremendous and calculate the time to go from one place to another, especially when you make stops and get lost several times along the way, it is practically impossible. So we look again at the campsite website where we can spend the night for free and the nearest place is, neither more nor less, than a Indian casino! As we tell you. And the site is very cool! They have some small plots reserved for vehicles like ours, with their water, electricity and Wifi connection! Olé!

So from here we write these lines, happy as two fools, charging the battery of the camera, of the computers, of the phones, with the air conditioner on top, with the TV on and Lety ironing her hair without fear of spending gasoline with the generator ... that this is paid by the Indians!