After yesterday’s completely absurd nastiness, pretty much anything would be better. And I’m not sure if today seemed so good because yesterday seemed so bad or that maybe today was just that good.

Honestly, today rocked!

If I could go back and live today over again and again, I totally would.

What happened today that made it so cool? Well I’ll tell you. Today started off with a bit of rain and Panera. I figured it would clear up and, unlike my previous attempts at meteorology, I was not wrong.

Most everything that was wet was now dry and that heavy mist in the air was even gone. I was definitely ready for a great ride from Rolla, MO to Springfield, MO.

I rolled out of Rolla, after a quick stop at scaled down, but nevertheless accurate Stonehenge. It was carved with high-speed water jets! I somehow managed to miss this the first time with (with Nikki, Danni and Derek), but saw it with Sarah and Becky. And now I saw it again. Wonderful.

Sixty-six follows my arch nemesis, I-44, for a tad, but then juts south in what made for a great morning ride. I am pretty sure that I was on this stretch a few weeks ago, but I didn’t remember it at all. Well, I did, but only from when I was on it in 2006. I think it’s got everything to do with greenery. A few weeks ago, everything was still brown. But now, it’s all green, just like it was in June of 2006.

Each time you do 66, you notice new things. And each time you notice something new, you think, “maybe I’ve never been here before.” But then you see something familiar that proves you were. A lot of folks, heck, even I, have questioned why I’d want to keep coming back to Route 66. This place is always changing. And the changes come quickly. You’ll see.

Heading into Doolittle, I saw a turtle trying to cross the road. This is the same spot where we saw a turtle last time. Last time, she helped him cross. This time, I did.

A little farther up, I saw another. And another. I saw a few dead ones too.

Now, listen here, my turtle friends. Whatever you think is so great on the other side of the road isn’t. Where you came from is gone, where you thought you were going to weren’t never there.¹ So please, dear ones, please stay put. By the numbers of your dead, one can see that you are no good at crossing roads.

After a few turtles, it was time to revisit John’s Modern Cabins. Nothing has changed since I was here a few weeks ago, but much has changed from a couple of years ago. A couple years ago, the interstate went between Old 66 and cabins. You had to do a weird little shuffle with your car. It was lame and annoying. But now you can simply cross the old interstate like it weren’t never there.

But the cabins are great. It’s a shame that in five to ten years they’ll all be collapsed. Maybe even sooner. Seriously, if you really want to see these, get out and see them.

Farther down the road, which dead ends, is Arlington. In 1946, Arlington had a population of 40. If there are 10 now, I’d be surprised. When Rittenhouse² mentions it in his book, he says the “main street was cut off by a new highway.” I’m not exactly sure which new highway. It was what later became I-44, but is it where I-44 is now?

At any rate, Route 66 used to cross a river here. It doesn’t anymore. It used to cross from Arlington to near Jerome. That crossing is gone.

And that means that you have to backtrack and grab the interstate for four miles. Did I really want to join my arch-nemesis for four whole miles? No. It’s not a whole lot of fun. But I bit the bullet and white-knuckled it from exit 176 to exit 172.

Exit 172 is the exit for Jerome. There are signs on the interstate to get off here and hang a left. But first, let’s hang a right. A right will follow Old 66 back towards Jerome. I don’t think that 66 ever went into Jerome. I could be wrong, but I don’t see how it did. It crossed the river from Arlington and skirted some houses near the southern end of Jerome. I’m not exactly sure where it crossed.

But from there it passes a few abandoned tourist cabins and the Trail of Tears monument. We were here just a few weeks ago. One big change is that there is now a white metal gate closing off the whole thing to everyone and basically making it look horrible. It complete destroys the mood and aesthetics of the monument. What crap. Hopefully it’s just a temporary thing.

From the Jerome area, westward, the road takes you away from the interstate a bit. It’s actually not that far away, but you really can’t see it from 66. That’s a nice thing. The whole day was a lot like this. Even when you were close to the interstate, it was just a nice ride.

And up next was one of my favorite sections of 66. Hooker’s Cut. And within Hooker’s Cut lies Devil’s Elbow. Devil’s Elbow isn’t named after a section of road, but rather a bend in the river. The Hooker’s Cut section is a very pristine four lane. I’m not sure if any other four lane sections of 66 are in this good of shape. It even has the weird curbs on either side of the road. The lanes are amazingly small and I can’t imagine what it would have been like to be riding this close to 18 wheelers.

All, and I mean ALL, of the roads and streets around Devil’s Elbow begin with the letter “T.” You’ve got (starting in the east as you enter the four lane alignment) Telos, Totem, Trail of Tears, Trout (which might be Old 66), Trophy (which might also), Telcom, Teller, Teasley, Teardrop Road (which is Old 66 to Devil’s Elbow), Temporal, Timber, Tidal, Train, Township, Teacut, Teahouse, Teapot, Tank, Teacher, Teak, Treasure, Torrent, Tapestry, Target, Tacoma, Trinity Circle, Tabernacle, Trumpet, Tyler, Tablet, Tabor, Tulsa, Triple, Texas, Turbine, Taylor, Torpedo, Toledo, Transit, Taffy, Tally, Temple, Thunder… ok, there are a lot more too.

Anyone know why? My theory is that it’s Devil’s Elbow. The “T” is the letter that looks like a cross. Could I be onto something here?

The “town” of St. Robert is next, but it’s not much of a town. It’s not even mentioned in Rittenhouses’s book. My guess is that it grew up out of the interstate. And it’s pretty much all just interstate type businesses. And porn.

St. Roberts has a whole row of porn for you! There are signs that advertise Exotic Dancers who start at 11am! Boobs and Brunch, what a great idea!

There’s also the obligatory anti-pornography sign on the other side of the road. It’s got a sad little girl on it and says that pornography pollutes your “body, mind, soul.” Now, a logical argument could be proposed for the mind and soul parts. If you argued that, you’d at least have a leg upon which to stand. But I’m not sure how pornography pollutes the body. Unless you eat it, I guess. But then, I’m pretty sure that eating porn is of little consequence at that point.

So could someone tell me how porn pollutes the body? Please?

Aside from that, I wasn’t impressed with St. Robert. And one clunky crossing of I-44 later, I was in Waynesville. I wasn’t so impressed with Waynesville either. It’s got a pretty cool frog rock. and the downtown looks nice. But it’s just not doing it for me. I don’t think it ever found its place. It never decided on interstate or Old 66. Many towns are like that. They focused on 66 and build a whole town around it, but then the interstate came on just the other side of them and they had to move everything or die. Some never really committed to either. That seems to be where Waynesville stands.

While riding 66, it’s easy to get over such things. The next thirty miles are possibly the best thirty miles in Missouri. From Waynesville to Lebanon you hardly see the interstate and it’s a beautiful country ride.

There wasn’t all the quirky and kitschy things that you automatically connect with Route 66, but sometimes it’s not about that. Sometimes it’s just about how this perfect stretch of road so smoothly follows the land. How it rises and falls, turns with the hills and even when it’s mere yards from the interstate, retains its serenity. It doesn’t blast through mountains or cut through the land’s swells and ridges. Here is Route 66 of old. Before the curio shops and tourist traps. You are now on one of the most beautiful sections of the Ozarks.

And with a brief run through Lebanon, with its famous Munger Moss Motel, this beautiful ride wasn’t nearly at an end.

I was supposed to stay in the Munger Moss last night, but due to the rain, had to not. I’ll eventually get to stay in this Route 66 icon.

I paused to change the directions taped to the headset of my Vespa. A bike rider with a full pack rode past me and waved. I took his picture and was really happy that someone waved at me and smiled.

Just like the thirty miles going into Lebanon, the thirty miles after Lebanon define Old 66 for me. Without these two stretches, the day wouldn’t have been what it was.

Interestingly enough, through the town of Sampson, Route 66 used to be a trail called Wire Road. It was a trail used by the military in the 1800’s. Parts of it later became Route 66. Wire Road also went through Wilson’s Creek Battlefield, a stop on today’s travels. You can read more about Wire Road here.

I should have left Route 66 to explore of the towns along this stretch. But the ride was so lovely and peaceful, I didn’t want to have to deal with traffic. Besides, I would soon be entering Springfield.

Springfield doesn’t seem like a sprawling city. It keeps to itself and doesn’t stretch out its suburbs to the surrounding towns. At least that’s how it feels to me.

I took the city route through town and wish I could spend more time here. If there has to be a regret about today, it is that I couldn’t have spent more time in Springfield. There is a lot to see and a lot to photograph.

If I could have kept to my schedule, I would have had more time here. I would have had more time at Wilson’s Creek Battlefield, as well. But even with the hour that I devoted to it, I was thrilled with it.

The battlefield is like none I’ve ever been on. There are no monument that I saw. There is one looping road that hits maybe 10 stops and explains it fairly well.

Basically, the Union caught the Confederates off guard and tried to surprise them by splitting their already out-numbered forces in half and attacking from two sides at once. But the rebs weren’t having any of that and by the end of the day handed the blue-clad (or in the case of the 1st Iowa, their gray-clad) boys their hinders.

There’s more to it, of course, and if you’d like you can read about it here. It’s actually really fascinating. It’s early war and it started with Missouri claiming “armed neutrality.” Fun!

It was a great battlefield and I wish I could have spent more time there as well. But that’s any battlefield, so I really wouldn’t write that off as a bad thing.

But the sun was dipping lower and I needed to get to my campsite. It was about 10 miles away from Wilson’s Creek (which itself is just outside Springfield). And here I am.

The sounds of the city can be plainly heard in a curtain of white noise that is all at once deafening and easy to ignore. The occasional small commercial airliner passes low overhead from the Springfield-Branson National Airport nearby. So far, two BNSF freight trains have passed next to the camp. This is the same KOA campground where we stayed in 2006.

Then, I mentioned two or three trains passing while I typed out my blog entry for that day. In fact, I think I’m even in the exact same campsite as we were in 2006. I wonder if I’ll be here again in 2010. Maybe sooner.

Here are my pics from today.

Miles today: 177
Miles total: 1634

Here’s a rough map of my travels today. It’s not complete, Google was being wonky.

1. ”What are you talking about? Where you came from is gone, where you thought you were going to weren’t never there, and where you are ain’t no good unless you can can get away from it…” - Wise Blood [↩]
2. Remember, the fellow who wrote the first guide book to Route 66 in 1946 [↩]

You know, I really like doing these updates. I won’t always be able to do them, but while I can, I will.

There is nothing that makes me happier on a stupid, rainy, evil day than tofu. There wasn’t much hope for tofu last night since all the Chinese places were on the other side of town, it was raining and everything that was riding gear was drying out.

So while talking to my dad, I told him this and decided to look it up in the phone book. Turns out there was one on the street where I was staying! I got off the phone and ran a few blocks in the dark, wet night. I ran until I realized that I must be running the wrong way.

And then I turned around and ran some more, passing the motel and then spying the Chinese place through my foggy, dripping glasses. I crossed the road, flung open their door and tried to explain that I was a strict vegetarian and couldn’t have chicken broth in my sauces. It was rather incomprehensible, but we figured it out. They even told me that I couldn’t eat the fried rice because there was meat juice or whatever in it. Yay!

I got Ma Po Tofu to go. Got back to the room and ate myself happy. It was wonderful. Not the best Ma Po I’ve ever had, but most definitely the most deserved.

Isn’t is wonderful?

And now I’m at Panera Bread, my new home. This morning I talked to the owner of the Rustic Motel, Papendra (not sure on the spelling, but “endra” means “god” - “pap,” if that’s how it’s spelled, defines a quality of god). Anyway Papendra and I talked about the scooter, the road, religion and a few other things. It’s weird how I don’t really get to talk to a lot of people while traveling. It’s just not how I travel.

I’m more like that lone stranger who rides into town. Oh yes, I’m a cowboy. On a steel horse I ride.
And I’m wanted.
(Wanted)
Dead Or Alive.

And here I go!