ON THE ROAD WITH GINGER HILL

I've been thinking about road tripping again-it does wonderful things for my peace of mind...and so I thought I'd re-publish my road trip memoirs from the last time I was unemployed.

I remember that when I came back one of my friends told me that she had hoped that I wouldn't, that I would find what I was looking for, somewhere out there (cue barbara Streisand...no, on second thought, don't). Its time to make my world big again...

ON THE ROAD WITH GINGER HILL
-OR-
WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION

The great American tradition of the road trip still lives within our hearts, even if our world, and our dreams, do sometimes seem to shrink day by day. Earlier this year my world seemed to be getting smaller by the minute as I put most of my energy into paying the bills, keeping a job that I didn’t even like to do so. I’d been very sick, my dog was sick, the bills were piling up and I was about to turn 30...I was working my way towards a nervous breakdown or an early mid-life crisis.

Then a wonderful thing happened. I lost my job. Thank the gods that I’d been there long enough to get a pretty good severance package (almost as rare as the unicorn these days). After the initial few days of debauchery, panic and vertigo, I realized that I suddenly felt better about my life, and that I had one heck of an opportunity on my hands.

Toyed with a couple of ideas. Key West, New Orleans? No, they’d be miserable in mid-summer. A friend said, “What about Route 66”? My brain echoed, “What about Route 66?” I decided that I didn’t want a destination. I wanted a journey.

In the week and a half between wrapping up my Summerfest duties and my departure date of July 16, I joined AAA, did printouts of maps and speed traps (yes, you can find listings for those on the Internet) and got my car into the mechanic for new brakes. I also decided that I was not only going to do Route 66, I was going to drive the Pacific Coast Highway, too.

One of my favorite old sayings is, “If a Jewish man should eat pork, he should enjoy it so much that the juices run down his chin”. In other words, if you’re going to do something (even if you shouldn’t) enjoy it to the fullest. That was my plan.

I bid my friends goodbye, gave my dog a kiss and was off. So strange. I’d always done the smart thing, the practical thing, done whatever needed to be done. Now I was on the highway with only a vague agenda and a tentative schedule. I was grinning like an idiot before I’d crossed the first state line. I wanted to get out of the states I’d been in (Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, fear, depression...) and into the ones I hadn’t.

July 16, 2001 - 383 miles
Finally - on the road. Had meant to camp tonight, but developed one more mile syndrome.
Didn’t seem real until I took my first photo of a Route 66 sign south of Braidsville, IL. Had it mostly to myself. I was able to see the construction back-ups on I-55 as I whizzed along on Route 66’s curves and jogs. This road is as new and improved as it’s gonna be.
Some of Route 66’s curves pass through spanking new subdivisions now; one form of the American dream passing through another. The houses are cookie cutter similar and only a few feet apart. I prefer the road. Still doesn’t quite seem real. Is this me? Doing this?

July 17, 2001 - 555 miles
Blue caddy with tinted windows passed me this morning. Illinois plates BB BLUZ 5. I wonder if I was, ever so briefly, ridin’ with the king.

Overall, the travel gods were with me today. Never got truly lost and traveled some great back roads...hilly and winding and really made me wish that I had something low to the ground with a stick shift and a lot of power. I could get myself into trouble on these roads.

I finally decided to let my freak flag fly and mount my car compass on the dash. No, I’m not a sixty-eight year old Grandpa RVer; I’m a 30 year old with a leopard print steering wheel cover and a desire to know where I’m going (we won’t get into the deeper philosophical implications of that statement right now).

Stopped to visit the St. Louis Arch, neat to look at, but filled with eight million sweaty people and their screaming kids. I’m supposed to wait an hour in line to cram into a glorified elevator with them and ride to the top? I think not. This will be the first and last time I’ll stop to look at something because I think I should rather than because I really want to.

Running a day behind “schedule”, but it feels good to throw that schedule to the wind.

July 18 2001 - 963 miles
Camped at Meramec Caverns Campground last night, at an elbow in the Meramec River, about 8 feet from shore. First thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a blue heron flying up into the shell pink sky. You don’t get that in a hotel. Blessedly quiet since it’s only 5:30 a.m. here.
Stopped at the Rattlesnake Ranch, just up the road from Merrimac Caverns - looked like a cheesy place, so I had to stop, but it was actually kind of touching. Most of the animals there, including a lion of all things, started out their lives as exotic pets. Then their owners realized “Gee, you mean a lion (anaconda, boa constrictor, crocodile) gets that big and eats that much? I’ll have to get rid of it.”

You have to know which animals to be careful around; it was o.k. to rub your finger on the lion’s fur through a little opening in the chain link, but you couldn’t pet the rabbits because they were biters.

I had lunch at the Elbow Inn, near Devil’s Elbow, Missouri. Absolute best bbq beef sandwich I’ve ever had and there’s nothing like a bar festooned with brassieres to brighten up your day. Looked like a fun place, free camping for patrons on weekends. Made me wish it were a weekend. Unfortunately it’s not, so I only got to spend an hour or so eating bbq with the local bikers as we heckled Jerry Springer on the big screen TV.

I’m at the Heartland Motel in Chelsea, OK tonight. The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the office was the “NO DRUNKS, NO DRUGS, NO TOLERANCE” sign posted on the desk. It almost made me feel guilty about the six-pack of Rolling Rock I brought in, almost.

They also had a poster detailing the ingredients and equipment required for a methamphetamine lab. Presumably so that if anyone tried to check in while carrying a Bunsen burner and a bag of ephedrine the desk clerk would know to turn them away.

Turns out the MSU solar car team stayed here last night, in my room. They’re doing the solar car race on Route 66 this year, the cars are cool, but I’ve been stuck behind them a few times, not very fast.

July 19, 2001 - 1398 Miles
Rolled 1000 on my odometer this morning. Oklahoma signage is not good - got spoiled by the signs in IL, MO, & KS that were reassuringly frequent and had arrows...What a concept! A lot of 66 in OK is now State Road 66 - well used and with all the feeling of an interstate. There are old sections there, but you need a state Gazetteer and a divining rod to find them.

Stopped west of Clinton at Jiggs Smokehouse - good BBQ beef sandwich the size of a small planet. Talked with Virginia, the owner, for a couple of hours. She moved to Clinton in 1958, before that she lived in Lawton, MO (much bigger than Lawton, MI) Great lady, interesting viewpoint on life.

About a mile over the border the landscape opens up and you realize you’re in Texas. Decided that Shamrock was the place to stay and chose my hotel by the fact it had a “private club & bar” (and a AAA discount).

I thought it was a little funny when the woman at the front desk told me that it would be a great night at the bar - Karaoke night on a Thursday is not my idea of a festival, but she said it would be packed. I just wanted a beer, and they had Guinness on tap...life is good.

What I didn’t realize was that this is a dry county. You either join the American Legion or the Irish Inn bar club if you want to be able to drink outside your home (or pickup truck- this is Texas). Jenna, the bartender, was quick on filling my Old Hat mug with Guinness (some people take a teddy bear or family photos with them when they travel, I take my beer mug), and Karaoke night was a trip. A few people there could actually sing, and some of the college girls really couldn’t, but who cares? It was Karaoke night, and I got to listen to a cowboy sing Patsy Cline because he lost a game of pool. Welcome to Texas.

(Part II)

July 20 -1665 miles
Palo Duro Canyon was beautiful. All of Texas was. I’ve never seen so much sky, with clouds perfectly puffy and spaced above the yellowing grass and red earth. Hiked along the edge of the canyon and learned to watch out for the short cacti that seem to aim for your ankles.

Hit the midpoint of Route 66 today. Stopped for lunch at the Midpoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas. 1139 miles from Chicago, 1139 miles from LA and a million miles away from my normal life. From there I went for a visit to the Cadillac Ranch, no signs, just a stark field with a line of buried cars dotting the horizon. This is where I should’ve taken my old Eldorado…

Took an old, old section of Route 66 into New Mexico from Glenrio. The guidebook advised against it because of the slippery gravel, but to heck with the guidebook. It was gorgeous! Nothing, nothing but arroyos and abandoned houses once in a blue moon, and miles and miles of scrub and green and the occasional cow. I loved it. Didn’t pass anyone, didn’t see anyone. I’d love to live here if only for the solitude, but I need forests. Must have trees and more green (and less rattlesnakes). There was one spot where there were chunks of the old highway scattered on the side of the road in piles. One of them is in my trunk now; it’ll make a lovely centerpiece for my kitchen table.

Camping in Tucumcari, NM. I can see Tucumcari Mountain through my tent door and watched my first meteor shower tonight. Giant flaming baseballs shooting across the sky (perhaps a bad analogy, but it’s what first came to mind). Prefer camping to staying in motels. You truly get a sense of where you are when you’re outdoors - the stars are different, the night sounds are different, and the sound of the wind whipping across the flatlands lulls you to sleep. Much better than the insulated encapsulation of a generic room that could be anywhere once you pull the shades.

July 21 - 2100 miles
Driving through New Mexico makes me feel very small. Between the huge sky and the mountains I feel about the size of a matchbox car. To the north, near Santa Fe where the mountains are a bit more rounded and gentle, there’s a sense of being on the bottom of some huge aquarium. I kept waiting for the sky to open up and douse us all, or for a giant sand crab to appear. If I were a UFO, New Mexico would be my landing strip of choice.

July 22 (or 23?) - 2271 miles
Got off at Grants to see the Ice Caves yesterday and did an accidental tour through Zuni National Forest/Zuni Canyon. It was stark and beautiful, and I’m sure I would’ve enjoyed the drive if I didn’t need an emergency “pit stop”. The bumpy gravel road didn’t help. There are no bathrooms or ranger stations along the drive, nor any conveniently large bushes. Finally marked my territory at “Point of Interest #5. There wasn’t any cover, but there wasn’t anyone else there either, and at that point I didn't care anyway.

Eventually got out and joined back up with 53. I found the Ice Caves, but I’d had enough for the day and got on I-40 headed for Blue Lake State Park, a.k.a. Lake of a Thousand Mosquitoes. Stopped at Pop & Son’s store just before the park entrance. Sandy was running the store, as her ex, “Pop”, had passed away and “Son” was only 17. She told me if I wanted beer I’d have to go back to the highway (not!).

The regular campsites were packed, so I off-roaded it around the lake up to a ridge marked “Drive At Your Own Risk”. I wouldn’t recommend the road to anyone without an SUV, but my little beige Buick and I made it up the ridge and down a short steep drive to a lovely outcropping that overlooked the lake and dam. Had to use big rocks to hold down my tent - it was either that or use a jackhammer to drive the stakes in.

Anyway, I staked my claim, drove back to the ranger’s station to pay, and when I got back and out of the car, all I could hear was a high-pitched whine as 8 zillion mosquitoes descended, drawn by the interior light of my car. Several thousand spent the night in there. They didn’t come after me too much, but they were huge and lime green. Thankfully the temperature dropped pretty quickly and they settled down, but it sounded like it was raining when I first turned on the lantern inside my tent and they began to fly against the canvas.

I was awakened by the wind kicking up around 2:30 in the morning, stepped out of my tent and saw a big flashing light slowly flying over the ridgeline across the lake. Initially I thought it might just be some kids with a really cool strobe light, but it kept changing size, shape and intensity - and then it flew about 100 feet over the dam. I watched it for an hour or so; it didn’t go spiraling off into space of anything, just kept slowly moving along, so I went back to bed.
Asked Sandy about it this morning on my way out. “Oh, don’t even think about it” was all she said. Was she just not impressed or was she a member of the hive trying to keep me from delving too deeply? You decide.

You don’t need drugs to see things in Arizona. The state is like one big Dali painting - huge rabbits and dinosaurs popping up along the highway, stuffed bears in the middle of parking lots, and a sky that’s a deeper blue than anywhere else I’ve been.

July 24 - 2504 miles
I’m sitting on the edge of the Grand Canyon, literally. My fear of heights seems to have short circuited after the initial vertigo I felt when I got here yesterday. Not that I’m planning on rappelling down the side, but I hate standing behind bars, and this is a perfectly sound (I hope) stony outcrop.

The vista is just amazing; some alien landscape of ancient red pyramids plopped into a chasm. It almost looks too symmetrical. Are we sure that aliens or Mayans didn’t have a temple down here eons ago?

Watched the sun set at Hopi Point last night. Beautiful. The crowd actually applauded when it went down.

The roads inside the park are great; at late twilight when the clouds are just barely outlined with light and you can smell the cool, mushroomy scent of the pines it feels like driving on the top edge of the world.

July 25
Woke up at 4:30 this morning to coyotes yodeling at each other across the campgrounds. The pack behind me didn’t sound too far away. Got up so early because I wanted to see the sun rise over the canyon. It was worth it. Had the point to myself until the very end. The only sound was the wind whistling through the canyon and the swooshes of the swifts and the bats diving for bugs. As I watched the sky light up I found myself thinking, “They’ve got it right, all those people who do the cheesy, clichéd pottery and paintings with alternating pastels and neons of the sunrises out here; they’ve got it right.” It’s still cheesy and clichéd because they’re seldom able to catch the spirit of the sunrise, but they’ve got the colors right.

After sunrise I went back to pack up my site and was about to hit the road when I spotted about 12 condors out for their morning exercise over the canyon. I pulled over at the nearest overlook to watch them. They may be ugly close up, but when they fly...

Stopped at Delgadillo’s Sno-Cap this morning. Free coffee (always a plus), nice guys, and dead chicken on the menu (listed as such).

July 26 - 3160 miles
Drove through Winslow, Arizona - home of “Standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, got seven women on my mind...”

They have a statue of Glen Fry on the corner that the city fathers guessed he was singing about...with the girl in the flatbed Ford painted on the building behind it

There were two Navajo guys panhandling there, said their wives had kicked them out... “You want us to take a picture of you? Do you want to take a picture of us?” Gave them a dollar that I’d found on the beach at Blue Lake, seemed right to pass it on.

The older one said that if he were going to give me a Navajo name, it would be Teclemate. He said it would translate into “the moment just before sunrise when the rays of color are shooting into the sky”. I’d introduced myself as Ginger...how’d he guess my name?

Route 66 runs through Oatman, Arizona, a town in one of the most desolate areas I’ve ever seen. It was 108 in the shade this afternoon while I was out there (but it’s a dry heat). It used to be a mining town, and the burros left behind by the miners are protected animals now. They roam through the streets, sidewalks, sometimes even the stores, at will.

One of the shop owners was telling me that they get a lot of interesting auto insurance claims from Oatman because the burros have no compunction about kicking car doors and eating upholstery. During mating season one year the male of the herd was doing his duty - and continually landing butt first on the hood of someone’s car. By the time he was done the front end was completely trashed. How do you explain that one to your insurance agent?

July 27 - 3481 miles
Camped last night in Needles, California. The California border guard confiscated my apples because they were from New Zealand...wonder what they do with all that stuff?

Spent the afternoon at Exotic World in Helendale. It’s a museum dedicated to the fine art of burlesque, and Dixie Evans (once known as the Marilyn Monroe of burlesque) runs the place now. The museum covers everything from Mata Hari up until today, and is actually an interesting perspective to view history from, as burlesque is one of the oldest professions...

Dixie is still as feisty and energetic as I imagine she was in her heyday - she gave me the rundown on her old routines, how they worked with (or worked around) the local authorities when on tour, and how some of the more interesting costume items work. All this for a voluntary donation (I bought a bunch of stuff in her gift shop and gave five dollars. I thought it was worth it). I hope I’ve still got my mojo working like she does when I’m older.

(Part III)

7/28 3758 mi.
Finished the Route 66 leg today. Santa Monica was a disappointment. The smog greeted me in San Bernardino and held out until I was north of Santa Barbara. Visibility was about a ¼ mile and the air was just icky. The carousel on the Santa Monica Pier was shut down for repairs and the rest of the pier was full of tacky sales carts, homeless, panhandlers, and many, many people. Pretty much the minute I got there I thought, “I need to get out of this town.” So I did. I love traveling by myself, no one to argue with about what to do next.

After twelve days of having the road to myself I was not amused by the crowded highways and lack of turn signal usage (my biggest driving pet peeve).

I spent an hour or so at the beach at Montana de Oro State Park collecting rocks and happy as a clam. My rock collection is growing exponentially.

Miss my dog, I’m such a wimp when it comes to him.

7/29 3889 mi.
Finding a campground in Big Sur, on a Saturday, without a reservation two months in advance is pretty much impossible, but hey, I got into the Grand Canyon without a reservation, and I found a place here too. Andrew Molera State Park, a buck a night. You have to hike in a quarter mile to the meadow that is the campground (no defined sites just pick a spot that you like). It’s another ¾ of a mile and some amateur rock climbing to get to the beach, which is almost pristine. There’s a freshwater lagoon just before you hit the ocean, warm as bathwater, who needs showers?

The campground was a mix of surfers, hippies, mountain climbers, and people like me, just looking to get away. Just about everyone came down the path with coolers of beer, their surfboards and gear strapped precariously on top. By two a.m. the campground looked like a frat party taken over by the Cirque de Soliel, complete with dancing, people sleeping in trees, and trolley races ending in a leap over a bonfire. Absolutely fabulous…like I’ve said, you don’t need drugs to see strange and wondrous things, you just have to look around.

7/30 3928 mi.
Found a fairly cheap motel, a nice break after a week of roughing it. I’ve spent the last day and a half here in Monterey, cool town; I’d love to come back in the off-season. I’ve truly come to hate huge, mindless milling crowds of people, and the aquarium was one big stockade of them. I would, however, recommend it to anyone. The jellyfish exhibit alone was amazing; if it had been quiet I could’ve sat there for hours, or in front of the super duper huge aquarium window. I think it’s the largest in the world, and the glass is angled, so if you sit right next to it and look up it feels like you’re underwater (with sharks circling overhead).

Wish I had time to go to the Steinbeck museum in Salinas, but need to speed up a bit if I want to spend a few days in the redwoods. Next time.

7/31 4004 mi.
This campground is obviously built for the rich and famous. I’ve never been to a campground with saunas in the shower buildings, a gourmet café, and stables and corrals if you choose to take your horses camping. The campsites themselves are pretty sub-par though. No sense of privacy or of being alone in the woods, just a spot to raise a tent. Hiked out to a field overlooking the ocean north of the campgrounds, and my thirty-dollar campsite fee was just repaid by having two snowy owls fly directly overhead. They truly are silent, and lovely. One flew over me then turned back and hovered for a moment to get a better look. I wonder what he saw. Is it like night vision goggles or much, much better?

Love northern California, they can keep LA. Too many people, too much smog, you couldn’t pay me to live down there. But here the trees are big and plentiful and the coast is absolutely breathtaking. Every time a car gets behind me I pull over to let them pass. I don’t want my leisurely, variable-speed drive ruined by someone tailgating me.

8/2 4163 mi.
I wanted to go to the Exploratoreum (a science museum) before I left San Francisco; unfortunately, one of those pesky blackouts struck just as I pulled into the parking lot and they had to evacuate the building. That was my cue to leave, north over the Golden Gate Bridge - funny, it’s free if you’re driving north, but they charge you a toll to drive south. Stopped and took a bunch of pictures, it is quite impressive.

Tonight I’m at a campground in Olema, and wish that I wasn’t. It’s one of those campgrounds that’s set up like a parking lot (this isn’t camping, it’s suburbia with tents!), on one side I’ve got an obnoxious family with an equally obnoxious child and on the other I’ve got a family with a child who’s been vomiting since I got here. Unfortunately, it’s Friday, I know that I won’t be able to find another campground, and the prices for motels around here are obscene. So I’m just drinking a beer (okay, several) and dreaming of the time when camping meant you didn’t see another soul, much less have to listen to them retch.

8/3 4463 mi.
Spent a long morning romping around Point Reyes National Seashore. Saw herds of elk, had a condor fly about 10 feet over my head (awesome, but also very intimidating, those birds are huge), saw a sea otter swimming in the bay and a dead shark washed up on the shore-one of the many reasons not to swim here.

There was a bull elk on a hilltop, watching me watch him as I hiked the mile back to my car - and all the while I was blissfully alone, a welcome break after the campground from hell.
In the mornings, with the fog and lack of traffic, driving the Pacific Coast Highway is like driving through a dream.

I’ve made it to the redwood forest! Camping tonight (and tomorrow night) at Humbolt Redwoods State Park. Drove through the Avenue of the Giants coming in here and thought, “This is what churches should be.” I’m not surprised that people believe in Bigfoot around here, it seems appropriate. Built a campfire all by myself (first time), the night is clear, I can see the stars through the canopy of redwoods, and I can’t see any of the other campers.

8/5 4998 mi.
Picked up California State Highway 36. It runs through Grizzly Creek Redwoods State Park, Shasta Trinity National Forest and Cassel Lassen National Forest. It’s full of blind curves, switch- backs and 10% grades. It’s also the hands down winner for the most beautiful road I’ve ever driven. If all roads were like that I could drive forever. Sheer bliss, all day.

Past the mountains, near Susanville I pulled over for a picnic lunch and to say goodbye to California. Considered opening a bottle of Mendocino County Merlot, but I still had a lot of driving to do.

Felt perky, so I decided not to stop in Reno. I picked up Route 50 (aka “The Loneliest Road in America”) and kept going. The nice thing about that lonely road is you can go as fast as you want, there’s no one else there.

Kept driving until about midnight. I was just starting up the Toyabe Mountains when the full moon rose, about four times it’s normal size, lighting up the mountains and surrounding desert. During the day driving through Nevada was like one of those dreams where you’re running but not getting anywhere. The landscape never changed; desert, mountain, desert, mountain and none of it very attractive, but at dusk and moonrise it’s gorgeous. As I write this I don’t even need a lantern, the moon’s light is enough.

8/7 5878 mi.
Utah was becoming another one of those not so attractive states, if only because of the construction backups that kept me crawling through it at about 5 miles per hour, but then I hit the Moab desert as it rises into the Rockies near the Colorado border. There was a thunderstorm coming in.

It was gorgeous watching the lightning shooting over the mountains at twilight. I have got to get a better camera, and learn how to use it.

Would’ve kept driving tonight, but that thunderstorm that was so lovely to look at from afar had me hydroplaning on the mountain roads -so here I am in Dillon, Colorado. It was after nine when I checked in, and my AAA card got me upgraded to a mini-suite with a Jacuzzi tub, so I don’t feel too bad about having to stop for the night.

8/8 6265 mi.
Welcome to Kansas! Cornfields, sunflower fields, cornfields, sunflower fields, cornfields, sunflower fields… I’m staying with Uncle Lou and Harriet in Hays; they’ve given me the driving tour of Fort Hays State University where they teach (he physics, she business law). Nice campus, they’ve spent a fair amount of time telling me that if I’m going to go back to college I should enroll here and move in with them. I’d love the company, but there just aren’t enough trees. A hike in the woods would last about two seconds out here.

I’m leaving tomorrow; I’ll have to bust butt to get to Madison in time for the Great Taste, but I wanted to spend more than one day with Lou and Harriet, I hardly ever get to see them. They said they’re planning on doing a Great Lakes tour next year though, and they’ll make it a point to come visit me, awesome.

8/9 6895 mi.
Harriet recommended that I check out the Garden
of Eden, since I’ve developed an appreciation for roadside art. I would love to do something huge and obnoxious in my own yard - think the landlord would mind?

On my way up I passed a field that had full size Easter Island statues in it - yep, Kansas is definitely home to the grassroots art movement, if they had more trees I’d actually consider moving here.

The Garden of Eden is a trip, I’m looking up at this huge statue of Satan with a big floating eye over his head (it lights up red at night). Samuel Dinsmoor built the whole complex in the early 1900’s. It’s his view of the history of the world, in concrete.

Interesting, his mausoleum says “Samuel Dinsmoor & Wife”. Apparently her name didn’t matter? He had two, married the second when he was 81 and she was 20 and had two more children by her - way to go Dinsmoor!

8/10 7097 mi.
I made it to Madison! Funny, I’ve managed to drive 7,000 some miles without getting lost, and then I couldn’t find a state park that I’ve actually camped at before - go figure. But now I’m here, and I’m going to see all my friends and drink good beer at the Great Taste of the Midwest. There are much worse ways to end a journey!


Afterword:
In the weeks following my return, a lot of people asked me if I was glad to be home. My honest answer? “No.”

I was happy to see all my friends, my dog, my adopted hometown and my favorite microbrewery and it’s denizens, of course, but I could've kept driving.
I'm happy, in a normal, day-today way now that I'm back...with a job, school and everyday responsibilities, but I have never been happier than when I was driving down the road with a vague agenda and a tentative schedule. It was that blissful dizzy happy of falling in love, and I was falling in love with the world all over again. I didn't have any responsibilities, and I had a wide-open road in front of me. Remember how easy it is to let your world get small? I keep a photo of my favorite stretch of Route 66 on my desk at work to remind me that it is just as easy to make it big again.