There are days when the road feels like the destination.
This week I pulled into Pops in Arcadia, Oklahoma, parked, and waited—because I wanted to catch something special rolling through: The Drive Home VII: Route 66 – A Century of Adventure, a cross-country convoy traveling the full length of Route 66 from Santa Monica to Chicago. It’s part celebration, part tribute, and part reminder that the Mother Road still has a pulse.
But for me, this wasn’t just a “cool cars on Route 66” kind of day.
It was the first time I’d driven myself since my heart attack on December 21, 2025. Read more HERE.
And I’m not going to sugarcoat it—just turning the key and pointing my hood toward the highway felt like a major milestone.
Back Behind the Wheel
I’ve learned something since that December day: the things you used to do without thinking can become sacred when life hits the brakes.
Sliding into the driver’s seat of my Honda Element – Elvira – felt like stepping back into a part of myself I’ve been missing. Elvira isn’t just transportation. She’s my rolling basecamp. My backroad compass. The vehicle that has carried me into more small towns, forgotten corners, and roadside stories than I can count.
This wasn’t a long drive. It wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t need to be.
It was simply me, the road, and a moment that said, “You’re still here. Keep going.”
And the truth is: each day I’m getting a little better and a little stronger. I can feel it. I’m not “back” yet—but I’m on my way.
The Drive Home VII Rolling Through Oklahoma
The Drive Home VII is organized by America’s Automotive Trust, alongside partners like the Detroit Auto Show and the National Route 66 Centennial Commission, as part of the run-up to Route 66’s 100th anniversary. Nine vehicles, nine days, and a whole lot of miles honoring a road that helped shape the country – economically, culturally, and emotionally for anyone who’s ever loved the idea of “the long way.”
That’s the thing about Route 66: it’s not just pavement and postcards. It’s people.
And Pops became the perfect place to meet them.
Pops in Arcadia: Neon, Bottles, and a Parking Lot Full of Stories
If Route 66 has a native language, neon is one of its dialects—bright, hopeful, and a little bit rebellious.
Pops is pure Route 66 energy. The glow pulls you in. The line of cars pulls you closer. Strangers become temporary friends. Everybody’s sharing the same space and the same story for a few minutes, and the road does what it has always done – connects people who didn’t know they needed to meet.
I chatted with folks who live nearby and with travelers who came from out of town just to be part of the moment. Some were chasing nostalgia. Some were chasing history. Some were chasing a dream.
But all of them were chasing the same thing: the experience of Route 66 while it’s still real.
Back to Shooting Daily with My Favorite Camera
I brought my favorite setup because I wanted this to feel like me again.
Fujifilm X-Pro3 in hand with a vintage Mamiya-Sekor 28mm f/2.8, adapted with a focal reducer.
That lens has character. It doesn’t chase clinical perfection—it chases mood. And pairing it with the X-Pro3 is like mixing old soul with modern grit. The images don’t just show what happened. They feel like what happened.
And honestly, getting back to shooting—really shooting—has been one of the best parts of recovery for me. It’s not just a hobby. It’s how I process the world. It’s how I slow down. It’s how I remind myself there’s still beauty out there, even when life gets heavy.
Route 66 Through Oklahoma City: A Road That Keeps Evolving
People often think of Route 66 as a long stretch between towns, but Oklahoma City is a living chapter in the story. The route didn’t simply pass through here – it changed with the city, shifting alignments as Oklahoma City expanded. Neighborhoods and commercial corridors grew up around it, and you can still feel those layers if you know where to look.
Route 66 in OKC is a collection of eras—different streets, different alignments, different “main drags” that each had their moment. It’s one of the reasons I love photographing this area: the story isn’t buried in a museum – it’s still out there in the architecture, the signage, the old motels, the theaters, the diners, and the people who remember when this road was the road.
Why 100 Years of the Mother Road Matters
Route 66 was established in 1926, and over time it became a symbol – migration, opportunity, reinvention, road trips, family vacations, hardship, hope… all of it.
And now we’re approaching 100 years of the Mother Road. That’s not just a milestone for a highway. It’s a milestone for the stories that have traveled on it.
Route 66 reminds us to slow down and pay attention. To stop in the small towns. To talk to the people. To look past the interstate exits and see what’s still standing – and what’s still alive.
Watching The Drive Home VII roll into Pops was like seeing the centennial spirit in motion: people choosing the long way on purpose, honoring the journey, and proving the road still matters.
My Takeaway (and Your Invitation)
Here’s what I want to say to every photographer and storyteller reading this:
Go shoot with whatever you have.
Phone. Film camera. Old DSLR. New mirrorless. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re making a record of your life, your place, your people, your moment in time. The camera doesn’t make the story – you do.
Take the backroad. Photograph the overlooked corners. Show the world the beauty off the beaten path – because that’s where the soul of this country still whispers if you’re willing to listen.
As for me? I’m already thinking about the next Forgotten Main Street run. But I’ll be honest – I’m probably going to keep us way far south and out of the snow for a bit. Recovery has taught me to be smart, not stubborn.
Still… the road is calling.
And it feels damn good to answer it again.
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