Route 66

Anyone who raised a little boy in the 2000s could not have missed the charm of Route 66, the fictional town of Radiator Springs and suave Lightning McQueen! The movie “Cars” was my first introduction to the glory of the roadway that pans west from Chicago, Illinois to Santa Monica, California. It was also called the “Mother Road”, helping the towns in its path prosper, one of the original westward transit routes before the advent of the modern, speedy Interstate Highways.

With the pandemic in 2020, the usually packed Southern California freeways had a lull. Earlier this June as COVID restrictions were being lifted, I decided to go into the office a couple of times a week in anticipation of a full-fledged return. Traffic was still light as compared to pre-pandemic times. Turning right from one of the main thoroughfares in the city, on to a street named Walnut brought alive a bunch of memories.

A small portion of Walnut between Culver Drive and Jamboree Road is on my route to work. It is a quiet, lovely stretch lined on both sides with my favorite Jacaranda trees. The heavenly lilac-purple Jacaranda blossoms never fail to fill me with delight, ever since I was first introduced to them years back through a  college Botany class and a single, proud tree that stood tall on campus.

The stretch on Walnut is often blanketed in purple with flowers gently floating down on joggers and babies in their strollers. My morning drive to work invariably coincides with the crossing-guard in her neon-green vest raising her sign to allow school children cross at a 4-way stop. Some yards away, the bus stop usually has a few occupants – University students, young immigrant professionals yet to buy their first car, nannies arriving to spend the day with their little charges and on a rare occasion a drifter lugging a large plastic trash bag filled with cans, bottles and rags.

Driving on that street enlightens me at times and brings me a smile ever so often. Custom license plates and stickers abound, the likes of “1 KDNEY” (wow- either a donor or a recipient), “FATHROF4” (how sweet), “AWDRNLN” (with engines gunning) and a jovial “I am the black Jeep of the family”. There’s a community park with baseball diamonds, a small plaza with a grocery store selling fresh, local produce, an ice-cream shop where high school sweethearts meet, on a slow stretch of road where hotshot motorcyclists slow down before tipping their helmets and zooming off to turn the corner on to the busy street.

This stretch – a small slice of the American life is my Route 66- even as my little boy gets ready to drive on the modern, speedy Interstate highways.

~ AK Irvinekar