'Tis the season of gratitude
Thoreson
I unexpectedly discovered gratitude and generational connection on a stretch of historic Route 66 this month during several days spent in Arizona with our daughter. My husband and I were enjoying a post-retirement adventure. Bert was wanting to see some Route 66 historical sites, so we rented a car and with Sarah as a chauffeur we traveled 1,100 miles in four days up to Winslow to stand on the corner and stay a night at the La Posada, a historic railroad hotel. Then off to Flagstaff for breakfast with the historic mining town of Oatman as the afternoon’s destination. I wanted to see Oatman after reading "The Blue Tattoo, The Life of Olive Oatman" a few years ago. The fact that wild burros visit the little town every day was also a draw.
We merrily headed out for Oatman, plenty of car snacks, vintage music sing-a-longs and laughter to pass the time. At Kingman, we turned off at Oatman Highway, a 50-mile stretch of narrow two-lane historic Route 66. While it’s a paved road, it’s still very rustic. We were blissfully unaware of what lie ahead between us and Oatman.
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