Stonehenge – Missouri style

By P.C. Zick – @PCZick

We spent the  second night on Route 66 in St. Louis, where we met up with a friend who showed us Soulard, one of the many walkable neighborhoods in this city on the Mississippi River. Soulard retains nineteenth century charm with its red brick Victorian-style buildings and row houses dating back more than a century. We spent the evening at the 1860s Hard Shell Cafe and Bar. When we walked in the door, a band played on stage and the lead singer wore a Buddy Guy T-shirt. When the band took a break, we told him about meeting the blues legend the night before, and he was astounded at our good fortune.

The next morning we paid the obligatory visit to the Arch, which I probably won’t do again. I’ve never suffered from claustrophobia or vertigo, except on this day. The elevator cars going to the top hold five people – all seated with knees touching. It takes four minutes to get to the top, 630-feet above the ground. Once at the top the viewing space is very narrow, I felt the walls pushing in on me. When I began to panic, I headed back to the elevators to descend, leaving my fellow travelers all the enjoyment of peering out narrow windows to the landscape below. A few weeks after we visited, the power went out in the top, leaving folks stranded up there for awhile. I was very grateful I wasn’t one of them.

We spent the rest of the day driving through Missouri. We ate lunch in Cuba, MO, at Frisco’s Bar and Restaurant with tall stools and an old jukebox. By late afternoon we were following section of the Big Piney River and enjoying the rural beauty of the Ozarks with their green rolling hills and wide-open spaces.

We were on a mission to find the Stonehenge replica on the campus of the University of Missouri in Rolla. It’s right on the route, but we missed it the first time round. When we saw the sign for the university, we made a U-turn and tucked off the side of the road.

Sure enough, we found Stonehenge in Missouri, with the rocks all aligned just like its English original, except this “Stonehenge” is smaller and much more accessible. We could actually walk among the rocks.

We made it Springfield, MO, by sunset and settled into our hotel not far from the historic district, which closes up rather early on weeknights we discovered. That’s all right. We had big days ahead of us now that we’d crossed the Mississippi River. We’d left our eastern selves behind as we headed west on the Mother Road.

Route 66 – Traveling the Mother Road

Put down the pen someone else gave you.

No one ever drafted a life worth living on borrowed ink.

Jack Kerouac

By P.C. Zick – @PCZick

It began one night over a couple of beers at a local bar. It took more than a year to plan and pull off.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” I asked my friend Joy one rainy night as we sat commiserating about our complacent lives. “I’ve always wanted to travel Route 66  from Chicago to L.A.  But I’ve never found anyone who wanted to accompany me.”

“You’ve found her now,” Joy said, and thus began more than a year of plotting and planning our escape from our lives for more than two weeks on the road.

Romantic visions of Jack Kerouac and the open road, John Steinbeck and a dog named Charley, neon lights and roadside motels clouded our minds as the mundane details of the trip threatened to intrude on our starry-eyed dreams.

Our daughters, both in their twenties, asked if they could join us. We were astounded.

“Why would you want to spend your summer vacation with two middle-aged women?” I asked my daughter Anna.

“It’ll be a blast,” she said.

Joy’s daughter Hillary said something similar, and so we became a foursome of road warriors ready to set forth on one of the most historic roads in the world.

Just the words “Route 66” conjures up visions of greasy hamburgers, neon signs flashing “No Vacancy,” characters out of a Sam Shepard play, and, of course, freedom to disappear into the gut of this country. Even though the trip occurred five years ago, I still see those visions.

Of course, my journal became my companion on the trip. Serendipity and downright foolishness collided into one of the most memorable trips of my life.

Soon after my return, I began writing a novel loosely based on the journey. All I had to do was take a small event from the real trip and amplify it into a golden nugget of a story. Amazingly, there were many stories that never came close to appearing in the book because they were just too outlandish to be believed. Those stories remain sacred, only to be pulled out when the four of us reunite to reminisce.

Live From the Road is now complete and awaiting the final touches before I venture into another area I’ve never been before. While I’m a published author of four hard-copy books, I’m publishing this one as an e-book with Kindle on May 23.

Leading up to the publication date, I plan to write several blogs about the real journey of a lifetime that began in Chicago  in a night I’ll never forget. We met blues legend Buddy Guy and walked down State Street under a full moon so large it seemed smaller. That’s just the way it was on this trip and will always remain so.

Have you ever traveled Route 66 or some other historic road? Did it live up to your expectations?