plenty of people, myself included, were concerned was paradise. A direct road to such a place had a mystique that was easy to get caught up in which is probably why I always imagined it as being literally different than any other road in America. Of course Route 66 doesn’t look any different from any other road and plenty of people, myself included, did and still do come to realize that California isn’t exactly paradise. All of which made it seem especially fitting that it was now literally and figuratively a shell of its former self. The road itself was just gravel and dirt though. The allure of being able to travel this road to an American paradise still existed while a romantic notion of hitting the open road and finding everything you ever wanted was as alive as ever. I could personally testify to such sentiments but as I had discovered there are issues when things don’t work out the way you wanted or thought they would. But I guess that’s all part of the experience. Being out here like this had made me feel a lot of different things about the open road but I can and always could see the appeal of it no matter what I was feeling. The freedom and unpredictable nature of the road made you think that paradise was always just around the corner regardless of what actually ended up being there. You always had to be ready for anything out here and those limitless possibilities were what Route 66 represented moreso than anything else. It was why what was now a retired and broken highway could inspire so many different things and remain ingrained in every American’s mind and spirit. No matter where it goes or how far you go on it, being out on any
seemed to be nothing but American Indians. I was aware of their complicated history that was glossed over in everything from history books to places like the cowboy museum but I didn’t really have a perception of them besides hearing they were big drinkers which is probably the only reason I stopped here. History is what it is but being in a place like this lets you see there are repercussions and consequences to all of it. Everywhere you looked here you could see stores with American Indian items for sale or art that was obviously done by American Indians or people that were obviously American Indians. This was certainly their town but the more I looked the more I realized how sad that fact was. Everything here may have been American Indian in one way or another but living in a town like this wasn’t of their culture. Sure, the stores here were filled with authentic stuff but it almost seemed exploitative. Like they had no choice but to sell a part of themselves in this manner. It felt like this place and the people in it were struggling