Well, we drove it. It took us six days and there were moments when we resolved that, just to get to California, we would not drive it again for love or money. We'd take a plane or train. But relaxing here in idyllic Santa Barbara the memories of strain are fading fast and we are almost ready to concede that, just possibly, we wouldn't object to another trip, particularly if we had a leisurely summer or winter to do it in. At the half-way mark we were smitten with dread at the mountains and deserts ahead of us, but we must admit that by another year whoever travels Route 66 will find a splendid pavement most of the way and the few stretches that appalled us will be eliminated.
The first day, of course, was routine. The route was just a means of getting somewhere else fast. We were familiar with the countryside and we by-passed all the big towns. Beyond St. Louis we welcomed the slight change in terrain, with Missouri's green wooded hills and grassy vales just comfortably different from home. The highway, even though it curved and dipped, was easy to drive and no problems disturbed our serenity. We pulled up on schedule at the loveliest motel we saw anywhere, cool and shady, air-conditioned, with a green lawn and a "worm" fence, and a most pleasant, quiet dining room across the way.
The second day was different. That was the day we had all our mechanical difficulties, and the weather grew hotter and the prospect wider and drier and more unfamiliar. We had got only as far as Joplin when we discovered the radiator was leaking. We found that the radiator on this particular model was made of iron during war shortages a year ago and the company instructed all to be replaced by copper ones by the first of this past June. Our nephew had bought the car in Pensacola, had driven it home to Illinois, had left it there and gone on to Korea. Somehow he had missed getting word that the part should be changed. However, we found a good shop where the man did the job and fixed us up in only two or three hours. No charge.
While we waited we wandered around the city of Joplin and found it a very comely place, with its wide, wide streets and its nice stores and its friendly people. We crossed into Oklahoma and found the vegetation getting more sparse and the spaces wider, the towns farther apart. Before we went very far we suddenly had a flat tire, out of sight of any habitation or tree on a blazing hot day. Luckily, before we had time to walk more than a few rods toward help, a young man came along and changed to the spare for us and told us that the tire was definitely defective. Part of the outer casing had never been properly vulcanized to the inner part, and pieces of it had simply torn off, and lay there beside the road.
All the rest of the way across the continent we were to see such scraps of rubber and to feel a sympathy with unknown travelers who had similar experiences. Our friend told us we would find a tire man in the next town but one. We spent what should have been the lunch hour prowling around that town trying to get to the place that people there all told us we couldn't miss, and when we found it, the proprietor admitted the tire should be replaced but he didn't happen to have the right size. He sent us on to the next town, Vinita, Okla., where they gave the same verdict, but the tire man was out to lunch. It seemed a good idea by then for us to have lunch, too, which we did, and then we took a look at a big department of conservation busload of native animals, such as foxes (which we found surprisingly small), and skunks and prairie dogs and quail and a wolf, and so on, on display in front of the handsome city hall. By then the tire man had done his duty and stored our new replacement in the trunk. Again no charge. But we began to wonder if this car, with only a little over 5,000 miles on it, was completely made up of defective parts, and if so which one would go next and whether we would always find the necessary replacements as easily.
Later that hot afternoon we witnessed a near-hit between a car and a truck passing, and we made one such pass ourselves, which was too close for comfort. As a result, by the time we got part way through Tulsa and found that due to road construction it would take us three hours yet to get to Oklahoma City where we had planned to stop, we felt that our nerves had taken enough punishment for one day, and we would stop there. However, we had gone considerably past the recommended motel and thought we could just go around the block and retrace our steps. That did not seem to work very well, and we found ourselves in the midst of beautiful tall and impressive civic buildings and churches downtown, but turned in our directions and at a loss how to proceed. Noticing we were near the Chamber of Commerce building we went there for help and were given a map with our way marked in ink. We were just to take an angling street for a block from where we were, turn left for a while, then turn right so far, and there we would be on Tenth street. "Yes, but we want to get back to Eleventh street," we said. "Oh, Tenth runs into Eleventh," said the girl brightly. We left, bewildered by the vagaries of city planning, but sure enough Tenth ran into Eleventh if you can imagine how such a thing could be, and it wasn't long before we were back where we wanted to be settled for the night in smallish but pleasant quarters, air-conditioned and comfortable. Once in, we didn't have the energy to go out again to hunt an eating-house but dined simply on some tomatoes and muskmelons, crackers and cookies which we had brought along from home just in case such a situation as this arose.
It has been a couple of years since we have gone touring to any extent and we must mention that motels have made tremendous improvement in that time -- and there are so many new ones going up everywhere, each excelling the other, that we wonder when the saturation point will be reached, and how many of the earlier ones will be crowded into failure, after all their investment by newer and fancier courts. One other point might be mentioned here; Whoever had the idea of giving ice water to weary travelers had a psychological stroke of genius. The very statement, not "Do you want ice water?" but "We will send out ice water right away," gives a lift in torrid weather; and when that tinkling glass pitcher of sparkling water actually arrives at the hand of a friendly host, it is like "the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land."
In the morning, driving on to Oklahoma City, we were glad indeed that we had waited till we were rested, for a good deal of the way was detour. We will never forget that vivid red soil being scraped and manipulated to lay out a wide straight highway for future trips, but this present trip seemed exceedingly trying. In comparison with what we came to later, it was child's play.
It was at Amarillo, Texas, that night that we really got panicky. It isn't exactly clear why, except we were getting more tired and more amazed at the wide open spaces, feeling we could appreciate our country just as well or more from a plane, in much more comfort. We had been pleased at the fine wide roads in Texas and at the roadside clumps of trees like oases in a huge land -- so much so that we stopped under one of them and had an impromptu picnic with more tomatoes and crackers.
That night we were in commodious quarters, with a good cafe in connection with the motel, and we stopped driving early before we were too fatigued and refreshed ourselves by dressing for dinner. Everything had gone well, and yet when we got ready for bed and had written our nightly letters home and began to bone up on our procedures for the rest of the trip, we were suddenly appalled at the boldness of our adventure. How and why did we get into this project, we wondered; and could we ever make it over those lofty mountains and over the desert? We were so low in spirit that we even considered just stopping where we were and wiring David to come meet us there. Part of our depression may have been due to the hostess saying when she signed us in for the night, "Two women alone? I'd be scared to death." Part may have been due to the occasional comments of service station men about the hazards ahead. Anyway we went to sleep in a fine fever of worry. But the next morning we started on again with part of our fears allayed by rest. -- Hope.
(Tomorrow Hope is accosted by "The Law.")