On a recent return trip from Flagstaff, Arizona, my kids and I agreed it would be fun to travel Route 66 as much as we could. We entered “The Mother Road” just west of Flagstaff and stayed with it. Before I continue let me state that if you don’t have either a ham radio or a C.B. radio, get one before you head out on this road. There were vast areas where my Verizon and my daughter’s AT&T cell phone services did not exist.

I enjoyed the old Berma-Shave ads they still have on the side of the road. I also enjoyed the cattle-guards, the tumbleweeds and the feeling you get when a semi-truck passes you in the other direction and your car swerves from the forces of the wind. Seriously, that was fun.

We passed towns (like Seligman, AZ) that are still close enough to Interstate 40 that if you chose to, you could ditch the highway and go back to the freeway. As I think many people know, the creator of Disney’s “Cars” received his inspiration for the movies after speaking with a barber from Seligman who talked about the “old” days, when Route 66 was the only game in town. So, with that in mind, we continued down the road.

We came across Peach Springs (speed limit 25 MPH) which could have been Radiator Springs? Who knows. We saw huge rock formations very similar to the hoods of the cars seen in the movie. Then again, we were probably seeing what we wanted to see. Except for the two or three towns where the speed limit went from 55 to 25, the countryside was beautiful and uneventful all the way to Kingman.

Once you leave Kingman, stand by. They don’t have any signs posted, but if you’re in a large motor home or pulling a trailer, or if you’re either afraid of heights or mountain driving, DO NOT TAKE Route 66 between Kingman and the California state border.

As we wound our way along the narrow road through the mountain pass, the view was spectacular. Well, you had to look over all the crosses placed on the side of the road where people had gone over the edge and apparently died, but still, the view was fantastic. If you’ve ever driven to or from Big Bear Lake, CA the back way from Victorville, it’s very similar to that except it’s steeper with sharper turns, more narrow, and they don’t have railings on the side of the road.

Not too long after we passed the Gold Road mine, we turned the corner to Oatman, AZ. If you have ever been to Calico, CA, imagine Calico with about 200 residents. I have links here and here if you want to check it out. We stopped the car, stayed for the gunfight, fed some burros and made a friend or two. I would go back in a heartbeat.

So, why does California suck (reason number two)? Route 66. In Arizona, there is no limit to the number of signs pointing you to Route 66 and in which direction you must travel to get there. To cross into CA from AZ you must re-link with I-40, but as soon as you’re across the river they have a sign for Route 66. Don’t fall for the lie. You will take the exit but it leads nowhere. That’s not true. It leads to some touristy boat dock area that doesn’t have a single through street anywhere. So we went back to I-40.

As we came closer to Needles, there was another sign for Route 66. We decided to try our luck and took the exit. Here’s the thing: I know we were on Route 66 because it was painted on the highway itself. However, at some point it became something else (Route 95) and no one bothered to post a sign. You know, something like Route 95 with a sign beneath it reading Historic Route 66. Nothing. I went from being on Route 66 to being on another road headed for Searchlight, Nevada.

Headed down the road trying to loosen my load with seven women on my mind, we came to a decision point. A regular street sign indicated we were at the intersection of Goffs Road and the 95. Straight or turn? There was nary a Route 66 sign to be seen anywhere. Bastidges. So my daughter did the next-best thing: Used her iPhone.

Interesting thing about an iPhone, or maybe it was because of where we were, but if you’re at the intersection of Goffs Road and Highway 95, you’re guaranteed to confuse the crap out of Siri. A simple request like, “Route 66 from my location” will give you two abortion clinics and a Chik-fil-A in Portland, Maine. Ask something like, “nearest gas station” and you’ll be asked if you want to make a spa appointment at Madame Wong’s Day Spa in Vancouver, British Columbia. I don’t think it was until my son shifted just to the correct angle that we had sufficient signal for the GPS map to appear and realize that Goffs Road is, in fact, Route 66.

Once you leave Goffs, CA (be careful of the 90 degree, 10 MPH turn from north to west), put it on auto pilot and take a nap. Unlike Arizona’s small towns still alive along the road, California’s small towns all died–except where they intersect with I-40.

I guess to be fair, California doesn’t suck *because* of Route 66, it sucks because it’s hard to find. The freeway signs do a good job of teasing you off the freeway to relive the days of old, but once you’re off the freeway you’re on your own. I really felt AZ did a great job keeping you on the road and encouraging you to stay there even if it was to feed the speed traps and tourist towns along the way.

California was more like a card from one of those adult phone sex operations. They tease you with the promise of a good time. On the surface, it’s sexy and appealing–Route 66: The Mother Road. It even has it’s own song! And then reality hits. Candice really isn’t a 22 year old fit-and-trim, blonde-haired, blue-eyed co-ed who walks around in short-shorts and a too-tight tank top just like Route 66 (in CA) isn’t full of nostalgia. Candice’s name is really Betty and she works in a cubical at a call center when she’s not serving beers at the local bar. Route 66 (in CA) is really just a pseudonym for a hyped-up road (when you can find it–thank you CalTrans) that cuts a path of loneliness and despair through the desert.

And that, my friends, is why California sucks (reason number two).