When we first moved to Kingman the running joke was that the town was settled by folks who stopped to wait for the wind to quit blowing, everyone else just broke down here. There is a surprising bit of truth to this.
A day without at least a breeze is a rarity here. As far as breakdowns, well I can attest to meeting several dozen characters who did just that and decided to stay.
One, a friend who passed away this past year, first came to Kingman in 1937 when enroute to Knoxville from California the distributor on his Auburn gave up the ghost. H.P. went on to a multitude of adventures including World War II but his brief visit to Kingman was a fond memory that led to his return about thirty years ago.
My personal take on the weather here is simple. The only reason someone would say we do not have four seasons is because they have not spent a week in Kingman.
Consider this past seven days. Rain, snow flurries, spring weather with temperatures approaching seventy and today, a winter storm warning with strong possibility for snow above 4,000 feet in elevation.
Enhancing the ability to have all seasons in a week is the dramatic elevation changes found with very short drives. That was one of the determining factors in Ford Motor Company converting the World War II auxillary airfield at Yucca along Route 66 into a test facility in 1955.
That facility is still in operation today. However, instead of Fords it is used to test the durability of Chrysler and Harley Davidson built products. There is a bit of Route 66 trivia for the day.
The good news about another winter storm is that in the morning I will have time for some photography. I love storms in the desert as they add vibrant and colorful contrast to the stunning but harsh landscapes.
Still, there are signs everywhere that spring is just around the corner. Just this morning I jumped out of bed at 4:30, gutted the office, cleaned it within an inch of its life, rearranged the furniture, and then had breakfast with my dearest friend before work. If that doesn’t scream spring, I don’t know what does.
This afternoon after work, I will finish a few organizational tasks and settle in to prepare files for the tax accountant on Monday morning. If all goes according to plan, Monday should be a whiz bang sort of day – open the office, tax preperation, picking up some research material and donating a copy of my new book to the library, run errands for mother, and, hopefully, have a few hours to dedicate to Ghost Towns of Route 66.
Indications are that this will be a very busy season here on Route 66. Dries Bessel will be leading a Dutch group along the old highway in July, an Australian group is rolling west in late March, in August a contingent of micro car enthusiasts will be heading for Chicago, and I recently learned that some folks from the Scandanavian countries will be rolling west on the old double six this year as well.
It is quite apparent that Route 66 long ago transcended its original purpose and is now a larger than life American icon. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise to learn that the number one choice for those vacationing on Route 66 is another American icon, Harley Davidsonhttp://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=1968adventurer&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=1933911107&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr. If that is your favored mode of transport perhaps this book might be of interest.
The changes made to Route 66 Info Center have generated favorable response. For me this site seems to be an endless source of frustration and excitement.
The frustration stems from lack of time to really build it into a favored destination for those interested in automotive history or planning a trip along Route 66, or some of the other great two lane highways. The excitement is in working on it and the positive response received.
With that said, I have set aside a minimum of two hours to work on it this weekend. If you are a regular visitor to the site, I suggest checking in Monday afternoon. As always, your feedback about the site as well as this blog are greatly appreciated.
