Alan L. Winters
MAIN STREET, USA
We ride the Mother Road, 66 from Illinois
Each with dreams or memories-
“I’ve never seen the west before”
“I’ve traveled all these roads and more”.
And we pass through towns of yesterday
Like dots on maps that fade away.
We see a car that’s weighted down,
A pack mule overstuffed with life.
I know you Jeb Jode.
Welcome to the Mother Road.
Keep a movin’ on
till ya taste the salted air
And sit upon the western shore
With all your dreams to share.
We stop for coffee on the way
In a one horse town café
Where the waitress never aged-
Only grew a little older.
But the coffee’s still the same,
Hot and strong and brewed with love
When a tour bus comes to town-
Tomorrow things will settle down.
Some places now are closed.
I guess they always were.
Glass front gas pumps.
Sorry folks we’re out of gas,
Come back another day.
Passing through the Texas towns
And past the cars that look like flowers
Sprouting from the ground:
Then on to Arizona’s fields
Where all the stone trees grow.
We board a train that’s slow enough
To see the rugged land
And leave the desert far behind
Below a canyon grand.
Here at last on western shore
We reflect on who we are,
Where it is we’re going to,
Where it is we’ve been.
We’ve driven into history
And bound for home again.
Hey, Jeb Jode, I’m glad you’re here
And glad to call you friend.
©Copyright September 26, 2003 by Alan L. Winters
Author’s Note: Back in the autumn of 2003 I took a 26 day cross country Starr Tours trip following, and sometimes on, Route 66. When we got to Los Angeles we dropped south to San Diego and took a southern route back home. I wrote this during the outbound part and read it the group and gave each of them a copy. Three weeks after I returned from the trip I retired