The asphalt boil at noon. The first rays of sunlight are absorbed by the soil; after a while and can not cope and road burns. Staking the edges, The bulle fe. Catholic and Baptist churches are constantly, grandly announced by crosses and neon bulbs that make flashing phrases like "Jesus is the answer". The massive call to faith is not surprising in a deeply religious country in which God comes up in dollars.
But this trip is another kind of faith. It is the hope to which Bruce Springsteen sings, to redemption; to those cravings that took root in Oklahoma, the next state to Missouri after just a few minutes stepping Kansas. Perhaps this is the core of many meanings of the route, and not just because that visionary Avery soon take root in this place or for being the home of Will Rogers, multifaceted man of the time by which name it was known originally road. From this state fled thousands during the Great Depression. The Oklahoma sharecroppers, uprooted from their land by drought in the thirties and by banks, took to the road to California, the promised land. Although in fact the Indians were perhaps the first to be uprooted from their land. In fact, Oklahoma hunde Raíces en sus Okla Humma, "Red people". Quintessential Indian Territory, there 25 Indians indigenous languages ??but have been reduced to reserves and most visible is something molded to tourism, as shops earth products
At this legendary mythology embedded in the collective imagination bind tarry clouds, tornadoes and shelters, the already deep America
Each of the miles in this state merges with a past that explains certain passions. Can not understand the legend without the heroes who made national glorify 66, the road wrapped in hope. John Steinbeck gave voice to the homeless, Dorothea Lange put face with his photographs and accompanied Woody Guthrie with his songs and his cap pulled. A financial hardship is compounded by a dry season that ruined the field, the dust storms known. Addition, progress and modern machinery replaced hand labor. The banks did with the tracts of land and came to. Tom Joad, the protagonist of The Grapes of Wrath, novel Steinbeck that tells the world of homeless migrants and whose antecedent is in a series of articles he wrote for The San Francisco News, is a hero of a gritty time when entire families fleeing in their rickety vehicles. Many Tom Joad struggled for dignity and thousands of peasants camped out on the roads and in government camps, los hoovervilles, Westbound, in the hope of finding a job picking fruit. The as Away.
At this legendary mythology embedded in the collective imagination bind tarry clouds, tornadoes and shelters, the deep American and windmills and diners, stories and friendly people. Woody Guthrie, In his memoirs "course to glory", describes his hometown as territory where fights were common. He even became involved, without wanting or deserving, in continuing struggles. None of that seems to materialize in a population whose kindness pours into every conversation. The hospitality overflows forecasts.
The ghost towns of Texas
And so, while the price of gasoline goes down, entered the vast Texas where the original route invalidated by tourist attractions that have nothing to do with some original sections themselves can be taken, (Proof of this is the huge restaurant The Big Texan, where they struggle to eat a chop 72 ounces for no pay) but soon have to abandon. Or is the road that we left and cut suddenly, forcing us to cross where we join the motorway? Yet should go through ghost towns where there is doubt. The approach to browse to a ranch. By pure chance we we arrive at one. The old highway, to which we were faithful far beyond the recommended, was full of holes and bumps. That when the time had not swallowed the asphalt and land was only. Sometimes the road leads nowhere, ancient populations through today there remain only two dilapidated houses standing without living in a climate enemy territory.
We follow the road until we passed a stone and dirt road. Far, Interstate. Over a dozen kilometers forward along the path until we saw the Smith family ranch. I went looking for someone between the murmur of animals and large barns until I found an employee. After holding a pleasant conversation, Toc invited us to get home owners to have a beer.
The day was clear and the generosity of the man with the hat was amazing. After teach the halls and rooms of the house, went out to a deck overlooking the family domains. In the distance we saw hundreds of cows scattered. We asked for the property boundaries. "You see those hills?”, says. "Up there".
Texas are ranches and cattle million, caravans and buses that ply the roads to the coast, eight-cylinder trucks and other exaggerations that make it the norm immense, no exception.
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