The great American road trip is best with two lane adventures. And the best of those two lane adventures is legendary Route 66.

On those old highways is where you really discover America. It is where you discover our shared history, learn that we have more in common than separates us, and make memories that will last a life time.

Road trips have been an integral part of my life for nearly seventy years. When we made our first trip west along Route 66 in the summer of 1959, I was still in diapers. I can’t recall a year since then that hasn’t included at least one road trip. And in some years there were two or more, some of which were epic coast to coast adventures.

The Great American Road Trip tradition

The first family road trip that I have memories of was a trip to Mammoth Cave in Kentucky from Port Huron, Michigan in about 1963 or 1964. My dad had spent years resurrecting wrecks recovered from junk yards or that had been left dead in the weeds. That was something that he would do for many, many years, often with interesting results.

For this trip we traveled in the “gypsy wagon.” This was a rusty 1949 or 1950 Ford pick up truck with a homemade camper where my sisters and I rode.

As I was just a youngster my memories are spotty and I can’t compare notes with my older sister as she passed away last year. But they have been enhanced with faded sepia toned family photos. Still, I have fond memories of roadside picnics next to streams, and roadside parks with hand pumps. I also remembere what became a family tradition, my sisters and I each were given a box of Cracker Jacks at the beginning of the trip.

A Summer To Remember

As far back as I can remember every year included a trip to visit my mother’s family in Tennessee and Alabama. But the summer of 1965 was one to remember.

My dad had purchased a pale blue 1964 Ford Fairlane, a vehicle that was in marked contrast to his earlier and future transportation choices. I was always eager to visit family in the south, especially those with farms up on Sand Mountain. But this summer was very special.

I would be left behind when my parents drove back to Michigan. For the very first time I would have weeks to spend on Violet’s farm. And that meant fresh melon most every day, fried green tomatoes, cornbread, fresh biscuits and gravy, and lots of treats. It also meant that on some evenings I could chase fireflies while my uncles played music with fiddles, banjos, and guitars.

What I didn’t know was that there was a price to be paid. I was expected to “work” for keep. My chores included bringing in water from the well (they had no running water), gathering melons, green beans and such, and helping with the livestock. It was the beginning of a summer tradition. And it was a memory making summer tha still makes me smile.

The Summer of ’66

Things changed in a very big way during the summer of ’66. We moved west to Kingman, Arizona, a drive that followed Route 66.

That summer included a couple of drives to Michigan. And two to Alabama and Tennessee as well as a week for me on the farm.

For the next few years, every summer included a road trip of epic proportions and a week on the farm. Even though every one of these drives included Route 66, my dad was always in search of other highways that offered new surprises.

And so one year we would leave Route 66 at Tucumcari and continue northeast on U.S. 54. Or we would drop south and cut through Roswell or Clovis before entering Texas. Some years, if time allowed we would roll north into Utah before continuing east across Wyoming or Colorado.

Traditions

The tradition of road trips continued long after I left home. Before taking to the road with my dearest friend, most of those two lane adventures were work related. And then came camping trips and family vacations.

The road trip tradition continues to this very day. And so an argument could be made that the road trip defines who I am. And it explains why road trips are a foundational part of Jim Hinckley’s America.

Another tradition continues but in a different guise. My dad would talk about road trips with friends, I share them through our multifaceted network.

But our passion for road trips isn’t just rooted in nostalgia. Long ago I learned that to really experience America nothing beats a road trip. With the passing of years that have awarded a bit of hindsight, I am convinced that the seeds of division being sown for profit and power today would fall on rocky ground if more people experienced real road trips.

Discover America

Listen to the breakfast conversations at the Bommarang Diner in Chandler, Oklahoma. Stop at a diner in Monteagle, Tennessee and you can bet that the out of state license plate will spark a conversation. Pop into the Midpoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas for pie and coffee, or Calico’s in Kingman, and strike up a conversation with Germans that are taking a bucket list trip on Route 66.

These are the type of experiences that infuse a road trip with an infectious magic. And they are key to understanding what made America great, why it is unique, and why we are a nation of neighbors.

Any time is the perfect time for a road trip. But the centennial of Route 66 provides an extra helping of magic.

So, pack up the family. Skip Disneyland, and set your sights on the horizon. And then simply drive, stop, visit with folks and repeat. Make memories and give your children the gift of tradition.

See you on the road.