After a long day Friday and a late evening with our Springfield T-Bird friends, it seemed logical to sleep in on Saturday. Yes, but only just a bit. Duane was up-and-at-'em by 6:30 a.m. to see about getting his right window fixed. On Friday, it froze in the down position, and with suspected rain, something had to be done. Coming to his rescue was Keith Rose of the Springfield club who shared his garage, tools and talents to at least get the window into an up position; the electric window motor is burned out and those repairs will have to come later. Duane sends his heartiest thanks to Keith.
On the agenda was the chance to delve into Abraham Lincoln's life and to see where and how he lived in Springfield. First up was a tour of his home -- a modest frame house even for its day. It is the only house Lincoln ever owned. The neighborhood consists of other original homes from the era, and is closed to vehicular traffic. What an experience to be in the same rooms that this great American inhabited. Our guide from the Park Service warned us not to touch items in the recreated rooms with the exception of the stair railing to the second floor; it is the same wooden bannister Lincoln used on the stairs. It was surreal.
We also enjoyed Lincoln's Presidential Library and Museum, its incredible and lifelike tableau of Lincoln's life, from his childhood log cabin to the White House. There also were papers, memorabilia and the one thing that struck me most, his black stovepipe hat with two worn spots on the brim made by his fingers when he doffed his hat to others.
While some ventured out to the State Capitol and Lincoln's tomb, we let the road lead us. In Litchfield we tried to eat lunch at the Ariston Cafe, but they don't serve lunch on Saturdays. Nevertheless, they invited us in to look around. Owner Demi Adam's father-in-law built the restaurant in 1931 and it's been in the family ever since.
Route 66 took us into Mount Olive where a 1926 Shell station that sold gas along the road for 65 years is being restored. Soulsby Station sports antique red and yellow Shell gas pumps; the National Park Service recently approved a $10,000 matching preservation grant to complete the project.
Among Route 66's wackiest roadside attractions is one called Henry's Rabbit Ranch. Ah, you say, picturing all sorts of critters and hutches and such. But that's too simple and straightforward for the Mother Road. Instead, think of cars and one in particular. Yep, the Volkswagen Rabbit. We don't know if this is a love affair or a hate relationship with the Rabbit, but certainly it is being given its due. See how eight of them are displayed below.
And for a Judy whose maiden name is Hare, this sign was just too good to let go unnoticed!
And now it was time to head toward Hazelwood, Mo., and our overnight venue. As we drove west toward St. Louis we traveled through some of Route 66's most beautiful scenery -- rolling hills and lots of green away from the highways.
We were reminded by Bill and Doris that they are beginning their 66th year of marriage on Route 66. Sounds good to me!
Sunday, Sept. 25, Hazelwood, Mo., a St. Louis suburb
It was a day of diverse discovery as we went in several directions. One group returned to Illinois to see the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center while others of us sought out the famed explorers in a different way -- their boathouse near their departure point on the banks of the Missouri River. Here replicas of their boats are on display next to gardens filled with plants native to the area in 1802.
But first, I have to back up. We left Hazelwood for nearby St. Charles to reach the boathouse. As we came in the driveway, a man waved us through to the "registration table." The what? We had inadvertently stumbled upon a classic car show, and because we arrived in our own classic cars, they naturally assumed we were participants! We demurred, but Les decided to register just so he could get another dash plaque for his collection. Later he decided to have his car judged -- and since there were only two T-Birds entered, he figures that at the very worst, he'll win second place. We weren't there for the announcement of winners, so any and all trophies will be mailed to Washington.
We decided to wander into the village of St. Charles, first capital of Missouri. This charming collection of beautiful brick buildings dating from the 1850s are stylish as befitting a state seat of government. Today the buildings house restaurants, shops and businesses along the tree-lined street.
While others decided to look at the car show or wander in and out of the shops, Gordon and I began our pilgrimage to the renowned Ted Drewes Frozen Custard, home of the "concrete" milk shakes and an icon in St. Louis for decades. En route downtown, we saw huge brick homes, canopies of trees, well-trod sidewalks -- all with a classic signature look that says "Midwest" to people of the West Coast.
And then, there it was, an unassuming white building that would be easy to miss except for the sign and the people lined up at multiple windows to place their orders. Faced with a huge selection of flavors, we opted for hot fudge/caramel concretes, so named because they are so thick that they are served upside down with a long-handled spoon firmly in place. A nice couple offered to take our picture with the concretes upside down, but apparently we had waited too long: mine dripped but held and Gordon's went kersplat on the driveway! You can bet we provided great laughs for those still in line. When I reported the spill, they gave us another one without charge, saying, "Oh, that happens to first-timers all the time."
But soon it was time to head for our overnight at Rolla, Mo., home of the newly named Missouri University of Science and Industry, and also home of Kappa Delta's Epsilon Alpha chapter. As we cruised Route 66, we came upon a roadside attraction, Indian Harvest, complete with colorful teepees and a gift shop boasting Native American art, blankets and silver. We pulled in so Gordon could take a photo, and I was about to get out of the car to explore the gift shop, when a woman came out and asked us if we were going to patronize her store. We said we didn't know, and she said that until we paid a $2 per person fee to enter the gift shop there would be no photos allowed. We explained that we were writing an article for a major magazine, and she said, "Yeah, you and a hundred others." Then a man came out and invited us to leave, escorted us to the gate, and said, "Your photos don't pay our bills. Somebody has to pay for my driveway." When we mentioned this to the group, Jo said she'd read similar comments online. Quite a contrast to the wonderfully friendly people we've met ever since we left.
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| The Birds and the Boys: from left, Duane, Les, Gordon and Bill A disclaimer: Although I can usually operate a computer program with some success, this blog has been unbelievably difficult to format. For one thing, I can't get rid of the underlining in this text, and for another, some paragraphs insist on being centered instead of flush left, and for some odd reason, the text above is blue. What's more, the photos aren't placed the way I'd like -- but trying to move them around is impossibly time-consuming. So I ask all of you to bear with me. Maybe I'll get it right, and maybe I won't. But I am trying -- very trying. More to come, Judy and Gordon |
Don't worry about the formatting. I didn't pay any attention to the formatting until you mentioned it. I was too enthralled with your wonderful descriptions of your adventures!
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