Gems of the soil

Yesterday, as I mentioned, I got a flat tire in Plato, Missouri—because what’s a road trip without a little roadside drama? I dropped the tire off at Sawyer Tire Auto Care in Lebanon just as they were closing. The manager, Larry, told me to leave it with him, and they’d take care of it first thing in the morning.

This morning, I went back, fully prepared to shell out $35 or more for the repair. Nope. Not even close. Just $15.72—because, for some reason, the U.S. still refuses to get rid of pennies. Larry, who had even given me hotel recommendations the night before, already had the tire ready to go. Fantastic service, and the guy’s got a sense of humor to boot.

Larry and his tires.

With my car back in action, I continued plodding westward. Just past Springfield, Missouri, I rejoined the original Route 66. I stopped briefly to check if my car would fit under a “Low Clearance” bridge—always an important moment of suspense. Glad I had filled up in Springfield, too, because the gas station just past the bridge? Long abandoned.

 

Will I clear the "Low Clearance"?

No Gas Here.  Lucky I filled up in Springfield

This stretch of Route 66 is pure vintage—the 1926 version of the road, untouched by time (or road maintenance, it seems). It’s also home to some of the most interesting people on the route. Many have been here for decades, living off the land and their wits, choosing the simple life over the rush of modern highways.

Not too far past the bridge, I stumbled upon some real gems—not literal ones, but even better. Gene and Patricia were hard at work in their garden when I spotted them. They’ve lived here for 40 years, long after Route 66’s heyday faded, building a life for themselves in a place most would have left behind.

Gene in the garden

 

Patricia and Gene in their Garden

Patricia was hesitant at first when I asked for a photo. “I’m covered in dirt,” she said. But I told her that made it even better—she looked authentic. She laughed, and soon both she and Gene were happily chatting with me. I was mesmerized by Patricia’s hands—caked in soil from gardening, yet still wearing her engagement ring.

 

Patricia's hands

These are the kinds of people who keep Route 66 alive. This is exactly what I was hoping to find.

A little further down the road, just outside of Galena, Kansas, I found a set of deserted railway tracks. Something about the scene struck me. The tracks—sturdy and well-built—yet no longer needed, no longer used. A perfect metaphor for what has happened to so many places along Route 66. But I’ll let you form your own thoughts.

With the weather turning dark and grey, I pushed on to Tulsa for the night, ready to see what tomorrow brings.

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