Not quite as advertised

SULLIVAN, MO — Last night it was McLean, tonight it’s Sullivan. Two consecutive nights in Irish-named towns was not part of the original itinerary, folks. But then most of today’s action wasn’t either. Such is life on the road. Plan for tomorrow but always be ready to juggle and accommodate.

Morning broke moist and chilly. But the sunrise promised a good day for driving.

Out on Route 66 at 9 AM, I pulled the Mini into Atlanta, IL, a few miles down the road, to snap some photos. These grain storage units grabbed my attention fairly quickly.

Further along I spotted a garage that probably once serviced cars of the World War II generation. Today a fading generic facade is all that remains of the business.

Most commercial services along Route 66 were not as humble as the proprietors of that garage, however. The photo posted yesterday of the recently opened diner with the rooftop display of the dancing Blues Brothers is but one of the latest examples of a longstanding tradition of Route 66 roadside advertising.

Historically when it came to promotion, the splashier, more outrageous and crazy the ad, the better it was for sales. Or so the thinking went. Say it’s the early 1960s and you wanna sell to passing motorists more hot dogs than any other game in town. What do you do? Purchase an old statue that was originally used to sell automotive parts, take the muffler out of the statue’s hands and in its place insert one mutant kielbasa-sized dog on a monster bun. The result is this restored roadside classic.

Neon was also used to attention-grabbing effect. I bought my first coffee this morning at the Palms Cafe in Atlanta. Sinatra from the ’40s played on the sound system while the waitress poured my cup. Judging from its vintage neon sign, the Palms was probably around when that music was new.

In Springfield, IL, the neon sign for a donut shop proudly bears witness to many years of circular confections sold by the dozen.

And then my camera acted up. Seriously. I mean, the problem wasn’t serious but it did require professional attention, which required me driving 50 miles out of my way to get the problem taken care of. And this was in St. Louis, MO. I don’t know if you’ve been to St. Louis lately, but man, the town is much bigger–more sprawled out–than I had imagined. And with sprawl comes dense rush-hour traffic and…well you know the rest. Most of you reading this are probably New Yorkers.

Anyway, that pretty much derailed the rest of the day. By the time I finally left St. Louis (after a stop each at a city information facility, the wrong place for the camera repair and the right place for the camera repair), I wanted to get as far away from the city and its congested environs as I could in the daylight I had left, so I steered the Mini onto I-44 and motored 55 miles southwest to St. Clair, where I resumed my drive on Route 66 until arriving in Sullivan and the motel from which I now type these words with a yawn. I’m kaput, it’s time for sleep. See you again tomorrow. And, as always, feel free to comment or say hello!

Postscript: If you’re ever in Sullivan, MO, do stop by EINopal for some great home-cooked Mexican food. The chicken quesadilla fajita I had tonight was better and cheaper than most Tex-Mex fare I’ve tried in Manhattan.