PHOTOS: Celebrating 100 years of Route 66 with your adventures
"Days after my retirement in Virginia, I made a 9600 miles motorcycle cross country trip which included Rte 66 from Chicago to Santa Monica Pier. Great scenery and history all along the famous road. Would consider doing it again but in the reverse direction, ending in Chicago!"Jean-Claude Dehmel
Liz Galpin
"A photo of my late grandfather Chester Lewis riding his bike in front of his motel he built/started in the 50s known as the Wigwam Motel on old route 66. The Motel is still being run by Lewis family members."Andrea LeDoux
Jay & Joanne Goldberg
Rob Cole shared this aerial view of Meteor Crater from a recent trip to Winslow.Rob Cole
Route 66 wasn't just a road for us; it was the bridge between my grandfather’s old-world shoemaker workshop and the new California dream.Here is a photo of my Dad's overworked Rambler, the family having lunch at a roadside park and a typical motel we stayed in. Thank you for keeping these stories alive!Joe Pallo, Glendale AZ
As you celebrate the centennial of Route 66, I wanted to share a snapshot of what the "Mother Road" looked like through the eyes of a 7-year-old in the early 1960s.In July of 1962, my family moved from Cleveland, Ohio, to Costa Mesa, California. We made the 2,400-mile trek in just four days. My parents were Depression-era pioneers who traveled with a burlap water bag draped over the radiator for evaporative cooling—our only "AC" in the 100-degree heat.We were the definition of frugal travelers. We didn't do restaurants; my mother prepared bologna or PB&J sandwiches at roadside parks. I still remember the "one-sip rule" as my siblings and I shared a single bottle of pop to stay hydrated.One of our most incredible stops happened at a roadside park in either Missouri or Oklahoma. A woman was sitting nearby, and my parents—despite having very little themselves—invited her to join us for lunch. She introduced herself as "Boxcar Betty," the Queen of the Hobos. She was incredibly kind and showed us her scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings of her travels across the rails of America.We pushed through the Mojave Desert at night, passing through Needles when it was still over 100 degrees at midnight. We finally arrived at my Sicilian grandparents' home in Costa Mesa, where I’ll never forget the feeling of the cool Pacific air and the moisture of my grandfather’s lawn on my bare feet.Route 66 wasn't just a road for us; it was the bridge between my grandfather’s old-world shoemaker workshop and the new California dream.Here is a photo of my Dad's overworked Rambler, the family having lunch at a roadside park and a typical motel we stayed in. Thank you for keeping these stories alive!Joe Pallo, Glendale AZ
As you celebrate the centennial of Route 66, I wanted to share a snapshot of what the "Mother Road" looked like through the eyes of a 7-year-old in the early 1960s.In July of 1962, my family moved from Cleveland, Ohio, to Costa Mesa, California. We made the 2,400-mile trek in just four days. My parents were Depression-era pioneers who traveled with a burlap water bag draped over the radiator for evaporative cooling—our only "AC" in the 100-degree heat.We were the definition of frugal travelers. We didn't do restaurants; my mother prepared bologna or PB&J sandwiches at roadside parks. I still remember the "one-sip rule" as my siblings and I shared a single bottle of pop to stay hydrated.One of our most incredible stops happened at a roadside park in either Missouri or Oklahoma. A woman was sitting nearby, and my parents—despite having very little themselves—invited her to join us for lunch. She introduced herself as "Boxcar Betty," the Queen of the Hobos. She was incredibly kind and showed us her scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings of her travels across the rails of America.We pushed through the Mojave Desert at night, passing through Needles when it was still over 100 degrees at midnight. We finally arrived at my Sicilian grandparents' home in Costa Mesa, where I’ll never forget the feeling of the cool Pacific air and the moisture of my grandfather’s lawn on my bare feet.Route 66 wasn't just a road for us; it was the bridge between my grandfather’s old-world shoemaker workshop and the new California dream.Here is a photo of my Dad's overworked Rambler, the family having lunch at a roadside park and a typical motel we stayed in. Thank you for keeping these stories alive!
Joe Pallo, Glendale AZ
Joe Pallo, Glendale AZ
Jay & Joanne Goldberg
"Our mother took this photo, about 1952."Steve Sipple
"Route 66, 2018"Richard J. "Rick" Ellis
Liz Galpin