The Road From Home
I grew up in rural Oklahoma. As a child I sat on the front porch of my family's home and watched cars buzz down Route 66. Unlike me, everyone else seemed to be going somewhere. Around that time, the drive to tell stories kicked in. I made up lives for the occupants of the cars, gave them exciting destinations. I imagined where I would go, what I would see, who I would meet, if only I could get my kicks on Route 66.
Then in 1960, a popular television series of the same name debuted. The show’s writers took up the torch and did my work for me. Our shared fascination with the Mother Road broadened my viewpoint. I had something in common with television.
Martin Milner and George Chakiris starred as Tod Stiles and Buzz Murdock. Hunky, even by my pre-adolescent standards, the two young men traveled the famous highway in search of adventure. They drove a shiny Corvette that was mysteriously replaced every season with a brand new model. To my little country girl self, riding with the top down was the epitome of sophistication.
At every stop they made along the way, Tod and Buzz encountered interesting people and overcame amazing obstacles. The characters were colorful and the locales exotic, but for me the world of Route 66 was black and white. Our family did not own a color TV because my father considered the new technology a frivolous gimmick.
I was riveted by the show, even though I was too young to understand the emotional drama inherent in the weekly scripts and years away from obtaining my own license to drive. All it took to get me in road-mode was a few notes of Nelson Riddle’s distinctive and blood-stirring musical theme.
When I learned, probably by reading TV Guide, that the show was filmed on location, my on-the-porch surveillance intensified. Now I waited eagerly to glimpse Tod and Buzz drive by my house in the ‘Vette with the top down, but of course, they never did. Not once in the four-year run of the show.
That didn’t stop me from making up more stories. In fact, I never stopped.
I believe the seeds for writing SINGING WITH THE TOP DOWN were planted years ago, when I was a kid who lived small and yearned big. The world is a different place today. Plenty of sources of excitement vie for our attention. Still, I prefer my adventures on paper.
Route 66, the immortal highway, lives on. So does the forty-six-year-old TV show. All four seasons are now available on DVD. I’ve thought about purchasing the boxed set. I could relive my childhood and visit Tod and Buzz again.
But that would ruin the illusion. Watching the show as an adult, I might realize that the writing really wasn’t very good and neither was the acting. Knowing what I know now, I’m doubt I could suspend my disbelief long enough to accept a 1960’s vision of life on the open road.
I like my memories. I want to keep them. I prefer to think Tod and Buzz are out there on the highway, still young and carefree. Still seeing the USA in their Chevrolet.
Driving with the top down.