Welcome!

Greetings from AMERICAN ROAD magazine. To find out more about our group and our
publication, simply post a message here or go to www.mockturtlepress.com and
take a virtual tour of our personal wonderland. We are about to embark on a
great adventure, and hope you will catch a ride with us. We're going places.

Jim Ross
Managing Editor, American Road

----- Original Message -----

From: Jim Ross

To: american_road@yahoogroups.com

Sent: Friday, October 04, 2002 11:07 PM

Subject: Fw: Winners







----- Original Message -----

From: Jim Ross

To: american_road@yahoogroups.com

Sent: Friday, October 04, 2002 10:52 PM

Subject: Winners





Greetings All,



I received word from our Washington office tonight the identities of the three

winners of the American Road free subscription contest held at the International

Route 66 Festival in Springfield, Illinois last weekend. We are proud to

announce that:



Tom Rogers, Springfield, IL

Bill Reaugh, Peoria, IL

and

William Buddington, Downers Grove, IL



will each receive a free one-year subscription to American Road magazine.

Congratulations!



Remember: American Dream. American Drive. American Road!



Jim Ross

Managing Editor

I guess this is what I get for leaving home without a map--I was on

66 a minute ago, and now I don't know where I am!



Anybody know a decent place to get some road food around here? And

maybe a nice mom-and-pop motel where I can get some shut-eye on a

nice clean, comfortable bed?



I know some of you have got to have an idea where I am--it looks like

a good road, with all the features that make us love ol' route 66,

but I'm heading somewhere else. I'm sure you know the road I'm on--a

two lane highway, heading somewhere I may never get to, since there's

so much to see and do along the way. Maybe I'm heading toward your

hometown, or maybe I'm on your favorite road clear across the country.



So, folks, post up and tell me--If you were me, what road would you

be on, where does it go, what will I see along the way? Can I GET

there from here?



Gotta get off the road for a second now--I knew I should have taken a

pit stop BEFORE I started driving--so while I'm off taking care of

business, post up and tell be where to go!



Dave Clark

Windy City Road Warrior

http://www.windycityroadwarrior.com

--- In AMERICAN_ROAD@y..., "Jim Ross" <pathfinder66@e...> wrote:

> Greetings from AMERICAN ROAD magazine. To find out more about our

group and our publication, simply post a message here or go to

www.mockturtlepress.com and take a virtual tour of our personal

wonderland. We are about to embark on a great adventure, and hope you

will catch a ride with us. We're going places.



Congratulations Jim and Thomas on the advent of what's going to be

the BEST roadie magazine ever, and congratulations Pat and Jennifer

on setting up a place where we can learn, discuss, and share our

excitement about the roads we travel and the people and things we se

along the way.



Let me start my membership in this group by saying that I'm writing

this email from the Tradewinds Motel, across the street from the

Route 66 Museum in Clinton, OK (just a regular room.... didn't spring

for the "Elvis" room this time... decided to be thrifty for once in

my life! I'm on my way back from the dedication ceremony for the

beautiful granite Will Rogers plaque which has been erected on Route

66 at the OK/TX border. What a magnificent event the ceremony was!

A caravan of 16 cars (both vintage and new, adorned with Route 66

signs and flags)cruised Route 66 from Clinton to Texola, where we

stopped at the Windmill Restaurant to pick up the Texas delegation

and hear welcoming speeches, then proceeded to the monument itself.

The day was clear and beautiful, with gorgeous pink clouds floating

above us, and the crowd was impressive! Besides about 50 (or maybe

even more!) of us Route 66 enthusiasts from OK and TX, we were also

joined by State Senators, Representatives, County Commissioners (all

of whose names I've forgotten -- sorry) and a busload of senior

citizen tourists from California! Jeff Meyer from the Illinois

Association was there as well, and the incredible Harley and

Annabelle Russell ("The Mediocre Music Makers") entertained us

with "Your Land Is My Land", and "Get Your Kicks on Route 66". How

perfect could a day be? I'm so happy to begin my association with

this E-group by being able to report this extraordinary and wonderful

event to you.



(Oh, and by the way, I handed out a whole fistful of AMERICAN ROAD

pamphlets at the ceremony, and left some more at Harley and

Annabelle's store afterwards!)



Laurel Kane

Afton Station

Afton, OK

Greetings,



From a tired old roadie - I'm one of those who go back far enough to

remember the time when there weren't any interstates (barely). Old

enough to remember when there weren't any Mickey D's or BK's or DQ's.

Old enough to remember when Mom & Pop ran the tourist camps, the

garages, the little "home-cooking, all-you-can-eat-for-$1.50"

resturants. And I'm only 65!!!!!!!!!!!! So it wasn't all that long ago!!



It wasn't all sunshine and gravy tho; as C W McCall sings in his

song, "Old 30", "she was 3000 miles of rockin' rollin' highway,

radiators boiling in the summer sun..........". Yeah, traveling in

the late 40's, early 50's could be a real adventure - you just never

knew what was going to be around the next corner.



So we look forward to the stories - and hope there's a few old

timers join in so we can have a look at the fun and adventure of road

traveling years ago.



Keep on trucking.



Hudsonly,

Alex B

Dave,



It was good to finally meet you in Springfield. Allow me to officially welcome

you, and all those joining you, to AR's egroup. Please tell your friends and

fellow road fanatics about us, and let's get some serious discussion going.



I don't know if we're there yet, but we are sure as heck going somewhere!



Jim Ross

Alex,



I'm a bit younger, but I do remember nickel pop machines and service with a

smile at your friendly filling station.

It sounds like you really have some stories to tell. So how about a few?



Jim R.

Thank you Laurel for helping to spread the word about American Road and for the

update on the cool event at the OK/TX border. Of course, next Sat. is the TX/OK

Red River war between a couple of highly ranked football teams, but we won't go

there. :-)



If anyone else has news from historic road events, wherever they may be, please

share.



Jim R.

Looking forward to see more from this group.

I'll have to look up the magazine, is it available in Florida?

--

_________________________________________________________

Happy Motoring! _________

Robert V. Droz ( us98@earthlink.net ) |______|___

U.S. Highways : From US 1 to (US 830) |______|_|__

http://www.us-highways.com/ () ()

Hello to everyone from eastern Ohio, the only state that's round on

both ends and "hi" in the middle!



I've been a fan of old roads since I was a youngster. Originally

from Dayton, OH I've lived all over the world while a member of the

US Army Military Police Corps=Ethiopia (East Africa), Vietnam,

Okinawa, The Netherlands, and a multitude of stateside postings.



My "mail order" wife and I now live in beautiful Tuscarawas County,

Ohio, approximately 30 miles south of Canton and 40 miles north of

Cambridge; I'm the resident auto damage appraiser in this area for

Ohio Mutual Insurance Group.



If anyone's in the area, let me know and we'll meet for coffee!



Mike Austing

New Philadelphia, OH

Thanks for the invite to join the list. Looking forward to riding along!



How's the magazine's distribution in the DC area? Anything I can do to

help?



Greg Laxton

Jim, Thomas, Pat and Jennifer,



Thanks so much for starting this e-group and for starting publication

on American Road. I'm really looking forward to the first issue and

to reading the posts on this e-group. The more interest we can all

generate in preserving the highway history of the United States the

better.



Thanks,



Mike

Thank you American Road,



And especially you the Roadmaven for putting this group together. The

two-lane highways bring us in touch with the real America in my

opinion. Where else can you stop and fill your tank and mingle with

the great locals of small town America? You can wander into a small

cafe without standing in line or picking a number to order your food.

There's a whole new world of adventure out there around the next bend

in the road if you take the time to slow down and enjoy it.



It was great to meet many of in Springfield, IL last week at the

Route 66 Celebration and I was overjoyed to find out that there's a

new magazine devoted to the other two-lanes coming out. Thanks Thomas

and Becky Repp and Jim Ross for putting this together. You'll be

getting my subscription as soon as I can sweet talk my wife out of

the checkbook :-) We should be closing on our new old house (1917)

next week in Yuma, Colorado so we've been counting our pennies.

Speaking of Yuma, it has a great old two lane - HWY 34 - running

through it too. I had the wonderful experience of getting stuck in a

cattle drive 15 miles from town on my return trip from Springfield

last week. Yes, only on the two-lanes! I love it.



See you down the road,



Guy Randall

--- In AMERICAN_ROAD@y..., "grandall52" <grandall@c...> wrote:



> We should be closing on our new old house (1917)

> next week in Yuma, Colorado so we've been counting our pennies.

> Speaking of Yuma, it has a great old two lane - HWY 34 - running

> through it too. I had the wonderful experience of getting stuck in

a

> cattle drive 15 miles from town on my return trip from Springfield

> last week. Yes, only on the two-lanes! I love it.

>

> See you down the road,

>

> Guy Randall



Guy!



First of all, it was great meeting you in Springfield. Now, do you

realize that your "great two lane", U.S. 34, shares pavement here in

the Chicago area with good ol' 66? Ogden Avenue, which is 66 through

most of Chicago, then all of Cicero and Berwyn, is currently still 34!

At Harlem Avenue, 66 turns south, but 34 continues on Ogden through

several more cities and towns on its way west through Illinois.



So, there's an adventure for you! Follow 34 all the way east to the

beginning of 66, then explore 66 back west! And when you're in MY

neck of the woods, stop in for a visit!



Dave Clark

Windy City Road Warrior

http://www.windycityroadwarrior.com

Hello All,

I'm really excited about this new eGroup! And it only make me want to kick

myself even more for not making it to Springfield! :-)

Pour it on!

Mike

www.catsupbottle.com

Greg, R.V., and gang,



Thanks for all the enthusiasm you have for American Road! Believe me, I am as

eager as anyone to hold it in my hands. Unfortunately, there is a tremendous

amount of work to be done to get the first issue assembled, printed, and

distributed, which is why we announced when we did for an "on-sale" date of next

spring. As for making it available in the D.C. area, Florida, or anywhere else,

this will depend entirely on the distributor. The sure bet is to subscribe and

have it delivered to your door.



Greg, thank you for joining our caravan. For those of you who may not know, Greg

is founder and host the Route 66 egroup, and our rapid growth here is due in no

small part to the good folks who can be counted among his more than 500 members.



Finally, R.V., when you get a minute would you send your email address to me at:

heartland@mockturtlepress.com



Cheers,

Jim R.

Greetings Jim, Thomas and Rebecca,



As ELP would say: "Welcome back my friends... to the show that NEVER

ends." Good to know that someday soon, we'll all be intersecting on

the great highways of America. The Father and Mother Roads are only

the tip of the iceberg, and the adventures and possibilities are

truely endless along the trails and weaves. Our Two Lane Highways are

concrete evidence that trails once existed, and one lifetime will

never be enough for us to appreciate ALL there is offered as we

traverse behind our fore-fathers. So great to be in such grand

company in the search for the expected and unexpected.



Congratulations in your pursuit to share the road experiences of

those who meandor the narrow roads and two track trails, and for

those whose lives depend daily on their existence. The AMERICAN ROAD

magazine publication is sure to bring the much needed increase in

awareness, appreciation, resurgence, preservation, and excitement to

America's history of travel and exploration along America's trails,

highways, and byways. Looking forward immensly to Volume One, Number

One. Count me there!



And I thought all these years, that my words were falling on deaf

ears. You've made my day! Yes indeed!



Welcome to the club my fellow landrunners! (;D



Give me a shout if ever I can be of any assistance to your cause. In

the meantime,...I'll be seeing ya'll just around the next bend on the

new horizons ahead of us.



God Bless and Happy Trails.



the landrunner

An American Road Story



Every year when I was in my early teens, my family would take a month-

long vacation. We would travel from our Northern Indiana home in

large circles, stopping off at state and national parks along the

way. Our rig was a Buick Electra pulling a pop-up tent-trailer. The

destinations were different each year: Florida, Yellowstone, Smokey

Mountains, Rocky Mountains, Maine and New England. Before I get to

the heart of the story about driving on a mountain road full of

switchbacks and hairpin turns on the edge of cliffs--with no brakes--

I need to tell you a bit about my father.



My father was born the year that the Titanic sank. He grew up on a

farm near Joliet, IL and learned to drive in a Model T Ford when he

was 10 years old. He related the story to me once that as a young boy

he had seen the cars for sale in the newspaper. There was an address

in the ad, so my father wrote a letter asking for a catalog of

information. His name was Homer, same as my grandfather (different

middle name, no not technically Homer Jr. and Homer Sr.) Much to his

surprise, a few days after he mailed his letter, a man drove up to

the family home in a shiny, brand-new Model T. The driver walked up

to my grandfather and asked if he was Homer Clark. The elder Homer

nodded, and the man said, "Well, Mr. Clark, here's the new car you

ordered!" In the confused moments after that statement was made, my

father's letter was produced. After my grandfather, not known as a

gentle soul, invited the salesman to get the hell off the premises,

he turned his attention to my dad. In his own way, the old man

imparted to my father the lesson that you don't give your personal

information to an automobile salesman if you're not in the market for

a new car.



So my father learned a painful lesson early on that may partially

explain why he spent so many years dealing only with used cars. He

also learned how to work on them. In the days before computerized

cars, anybody with a little know-how, time to spare and a five dollar

repair manual for your particular model could take care of their own

vehicle. It was not unusual for my dad to buy two cars of the same

type--one to drive, and one to harvest for spare parts.



So, sometime in the late 1960s, we were on a family vacation in our

1960 Buick Electra, towing our trailer, as we headed up a two-lane

mountain road to a campground in the higher elevation. There were 6

of us in the car: My father driving, my sister next to him, and my

Mother on the passenger side in the front seat; I was in the middle

seat in back between my two brothers. My mother noted that my father

was taking a few of the turns at a speed that was a bit excessive.

That's when my dad let us in on a little secret: for the past few

miles, the brakes had been getting less and less effective. He

surmised that we must have been leaking brake fluid. There was no

shoulder to pull over onto, there was no way to turn the car around

on the narrow road and head back to the nearest town. He had no

choice but to press on.



Though the logic of his position was undeniable, the sum of the facts

was still enough to put my mom in a bit of a stir. She said something

like "We've been driving without brakes and you didn't TELL ME?" as

she grabbed the dashboard with both hands and started slamming the

imaginary brake pedal she wished she had on the floor in front of

her. Her imaginary brake was no more effective than my dad's real

one. Our predicament was not all that dangerous, since we were

heading mainly uphill, so dad kept the speed of the rig to a minimum

and let gravity help slow us as needed. He also utilized the parking

brake whenever things got a little dicey.



We made our way up the mountain at a slow pace, causing some traffic

to stack up behind us. More than one reckless soul passed us--clearly

not a good idea on such a winding road. We made it to our campsite

just in time to prevent permanent damage to my mother's psyche. But

as soon as we got the trailer un-hitched from the car, my dad was

crawling under and determined that a cracked hose was the cause of

our trouble. He announced that he was driving back down the mountain

to the nearest town to get a replacement part.



Normally my dad was methodical, not impulsive, but he seemed to sense

that his best move at this point was to just get in the car and go

about the required business. This was going to be a much more

dangerous task that driving uphill had been. He was going to have to

rely much more on low gear and the mechanical parking brake, since

now gravity would be working against him. So, off he went, leaving my

mom to wonder why she hadn't packed any cooking wine.



Though my dad was back in just over an hour, the minutes went by with

the speed of a tree sloth being chased by a one-legged turtle. He had

purchased the hose needed to fix up the brake line, but instead of

fixing it in town, or paying someone to put it on, he drove back up

the mountain, still with no brakes, in order to cut down my mom's

worrying time. Now he slid under the car to do the repair, keeping to

his credo of never paying someone else to do something that he could

do better himself.



I wish I could tell you what state or national park this was, or the

name of that road, but that information has faded from my memory. But

any of us that have traveled in the mountain areas should be able to

picture a road like this one, climbing through the forested

mountainside, snaking in and out the carved-out path, up and up,

passing through the dense forest, emerging from time to time to

breathtaking vistas. What strikes me now is that the vivid memory I

have is not of the destination--one of many campsites in one of many

campgrounds--what I remember are my parents, the car, and, of course,

the road itself. I can still see this road, though nameless in my

childhood ignorance of such things, when I think about that day. I

can feel the car move slowly forward, and see my mother's grip on the

dashboard tighten every time the car slid outward on a hairpin curve

that was a bit sharper than my dad had anticipated. I can hear the

metal-on-metal screech when my dad would mash in the parking brake,

then the heavy clunk as he pulled out the lever to disengage it. This

is my earliest memory of an American Road

David:



I have similar memories, only of my grandfather (mother's dad). We'd take

two vacations a year; Dad would take my mother, my sister and I on a one

week vacation camping, usually to Cave Mountain, VA (by Buena Vista) or to

Keystone State Park, east of Pittsburgh, PA. Then, in August, Grandpa would

take us, Grandma and my mother on a 1-2 week vacation, usually down US Hwy

25 into TN or NC.



We were headed down Skyline Drive out of Front Royal, VA, when HIS brakes

started going bad. Grandpa was of the old school, according to him, Grandma

didn't know a thing about autos. The car started making noises from under

the hood area, Grandma was telling him, "Why didn't you get it checked back

in Front Royal?", they started bickering back and forth! My sister and I

were about having fits in the back seat, giggling at the two of them.



We stopped at a roadside rest to use the facilities and my grandmother

stormed out of the car and started walking down Skyline Drive. I don't know

where she thought she was going, but I can still remember her clomping down

the road in her big brown brogans! It took Grandpa almost an hour to

convince her to get back in the car!



Another memory is of coming down the Uniontown Hill on US Hwy 40 in PA. For

those of you who recall this area, you REALLY gain speed coming down the

hill if you're not particularly careful! It's extremely easy to lose

control of whatever you happen to be driving. That trip was my first

experience in seeing the "runaway lanes" for truckers. Each trip we made

down it usually resulted in seeing one or two wrecks and one or two (or

more) 18 wheelers bogged down to their axles in the runaway lane.



God, I miss the "old roads"! Today, in my job as Resident Damage Appraiser

for Ohio Mutual Insurance Group out of Bucyrus, OH for SE Ohio, I still get

to travel US 40, US 22 and most of the old state highways. We have some

beautiful scenery in SE Ohio and it really brings back memories!



Mike Austing

New Philadelphia, OH



-------Original Message-------



From: AMERICAN_ROAD@yahoogroups.com

Date: Monday, October 07, 2002 7:18:22 AM

To: AMERICAN_ROAD@yahoogroups.com

Subject: [AMERICAN_ROAD] A Road Story from my Childhood (A little long, but

stay with me)



An American Road Story



Every year when I was in my early teens, my family would take a month-

long vacation. We would travel from our Northern Indiana home in

large circles, stopping off at state and national parks along the

way. Our rig was a Buick Electra pulling a pop-up tent-trailer. The

destinations were different each year: Florida, Yellowstone, Smokey

Mountains, Rocky Mountains, Maine and New England. Before I get to

the heart of the story about driving on a mountain road full of

switchbacks and hairpin turns on the edge of cliffs--with no brakes--

I need to tell you a bit about my father.



My father was born the year that the Titanic sank. He grew up on a

farm near Joliet, IL and learned to drive in a Model T Ford when he

was 10 years old. He related the story to me once that as a young boy

he had seen the cars for sale in the newspaper. There was an address

in the ad, so my father wrote a letter asking for a catalog of

information. His name was Homer, same as my grandfather (different

middle name, no not technically Homer Jr. and Homer Sr.) Much to his

surprise, a few days after he mailed his letter, a man drove up to

the family home in a shiny, brand-new Model T. The driver walked up

to my grandfather and asked if he was Homer Clark. The elder Homer

nodded, and the man said, "Well, Mr. Clark, here's the new car you

ordered!" In the confused moments after that statement was made, my

father's letter was produced. After my grandfather, not known as a

gentle soul, invited the salesman to get the hell off the premises,

he turned his attention to my dad. In his own way, the old man

imparted to my father the lesson that you don't give your personal

information to an automobile salesman if you're not in the market for

a new car.



So my father learned a painful lesson early on that may partially

explain why he spent so many years dealing only with used cars. He

also learned how to work on them. In the days before computerized

cars, anybody with a little know-how, time to spare and a five dollar

repair manual for your particular model could take care of their own

vehicle. It was not unusual for my dad to buy two cars of the same

type--one to drive, and one to harvest for spare parts.



So, sometime in the late 1960s, we were on a family vacation in our

1960 Buick Electra, towing our trailer, as we headed up a two-lane

mountain road to a campground in the higher elevation. There were 6

of us in the car: My father driving, my sister next to him, and my

Mother on the passenger side in the front seat; I was in the middle

seat in back between my two brothers. My mother noted that my father

was taking a few of the turns at a speed that was a bit excessive.

That's when my dad let us in on a little secret: for the past few

miles, the brakes had been getting less and less effective. He

surmised that we must have been leaking brake fluid. There was no

shoulder to pull over onto, there was no way to turn the car around

on the narrow road and head back to the nearest town. He had no

choice but to press on.



Though the logic of his position was undeniable, the sum of the facts

was still enough to put my mom in a bit of a stir. She said something

like "We've been driving without brakes and you didn't TELL ME?" as

she grabbed the dashboard with both hands and started slamming the

imaginary brake pedal she wished she had on the floor in front of

her. Her imaginary brake was no more effective than my dad's real

one. Our predicament was not all that dangerous, since we were

heading mainly uphill, so dad kept the speed of the rig to a minimum

and let gravity help slow us as needed. He also utilized the parking

brake whenever things got a little dicey.



We made our way up the mountain at a slow pace, causing some traffic

to stack up behind us. More than one reckless soul passed us--clearly

not a good idea on such a winding road. We made it to our campsite

just in time to prevent permanent damage to my mother's psyche. But

as soon as we got the trailer un-hitched from the car, my dad was

crawling under and determined that a cracked hose was the cause of

our trouble. He announced that he was driving back down the mountain

to the nearest town to get a replacement part.



Normally my dad was methodical, not impulsive, but he seemed to sense

that his best move at this point was to just get in the car and go

about the required business. This was going to be a much more

dangerous task that driving uphill had been. He was going to have to

rely much more on low gear and the mechanical parking brake, since

now gravity would be working against him. So, off he went, leaving my

mom to wonder why she hadn't packed any cooking wine.



Though my dad was back in just over an hour, the minutes went by with

the speed of a tree sloth being chased by a one-legged turtle. He had

purchased the hose needed to fix up the brake line, but instead of

fixing it in town, or paying someone to put it on, he drove back up

the mountain, still with no brakes, in order to cut down my mom's

worrying time. Now he slid under the car to do the repair, keeping to

his credo of never paying someone else to do something that he could

do better himself.



I wish I could tell you what state or national park this was, or the

name of that road, but that information has faded from my memory. But

any of us that have traveled in the mountain areas should be able to

picture a road like this one, climbing through the forested

mountainside, snaking in and out the carved-out path, up and up,

passing through the dense forest, emerging from time to time to

breathtaking vistas. What strikes me now is that the vivid memory I

have is not of the destination--one of many campsites in one of many

campgrounds--what I remember are my parents, the car, and, of course,

the road itself. I can still see this road, though nameless in my

childhood ignorance of such things, when I think about that day. I

can feel the car move slowly forward, and see my mother's grip on the

dashboard tighten every time the car slid outward on a hairpin curve

that was a bit sharper than my dad had anticipated. I can hear the

metal-on-metal screech when my dad would mash in the parking brake,

then the heavy clunk as he pulled out the lever to disengage it. This

is my earliest memory of an American Road







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This magazine and group are truly great things. While we all have our

favorite roads that mean so much to us, we can still appreciate and

learn about other roads. I hope we can come together to help preserve

all the great historic highways that criss cross our great country.



I have already promoted the group to the two highway groups that I

moderate (Highway99 and LincolnHighway). I added the link to the

American_Road group on the links page of both groups. I hope that

everyone will spread the word.



I actually started the Lincoln Highway group because I wanted to learn

more about the Lincoln Highway.



Mike Frankovich



Moderator Highway 99 group

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/highway99

Moderator Lincoln Highway group

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lincolnhighway