Since I came to the American Southwest in 1976 I’ve driven more than 1.4 million miles roaming the highways and byways of this photographic dreamland, and very many of those miles have been in Arizona. Long ago I lost count of my road trips across northern Arizona, but one of my faves remains Route 66, both for its legacy as the Mother Road, and the peculiar and particular flavors imparted to it by my chosen home state. Route 66 is literally known worldwide for its promise of elemental freedom…the open road under the endless blue sky, a full tank of gas and maybe a convertible to cruise the two lane, teepees and broken arrows, neon lights and starry nights, burros and always the winding road leading west to the ocean or far east to a great lake. Route 66 to me represents discovery, personal and physical, of icons and characters, weather beaten diners and perpetuating kitsch, steeped in history and song, and the road song, while familiar, never plays the same way twice. And so we return again to travel the route for travel’s sake, to feel again the sun on our arm out the window, the wind on our brow, and remember to forget whence we came…
