Good evening, 919 Gang. Hannah Hui
Wong talked about Route 66.
SCOTT FAGERSTROM writes:
I'm
doing Route 66 from Amarillo to Kingman (then heading for Vegas) from June 1
through June 4. Anyone care to join?
RICK
SMITH writes:
I
drove from St. Louis to home and back for about 15 years when I vacationed from
the St. Louis Rams before training camps. I had a map of the history of
the road and its many realignments. I remember driving past Mickey
Mantle's high school in Commerce, Oklahoma. and stopped once in Miami
(pronounced Miama), Oklahoma, and asked a lady to direct me to Highway
66. I found what I believe was the "sidewalk highway", a narrow
strip, barely paved, and traveled on it for two or three adventurous miles
before getting back on the interstate. Leaving Kingman I once went
through Oatman and spotted a llama in the middle of the street.
Great memories.
------------------------------------------------
TOBY McDANIEL writes:
Great
reading the tributes to John Gilmore; so-deserving. A top-notch guy. We'’ve
been good friends since journalism days at SDSU in the sixties, both going on
to careers with Copley.
John
stayed in San Diego, of course, and I—to get close to my Hoosier
roots—volunteered for a Copley paper in Springfield, Illinois.
However,
for all these years, we've kept in touch, mostly via phone.
Several
weeks ago, he phoned from his hospital bed. Said he was getting better and
would be going home soon.
A few
days later, I called him for an update. No answer. I left a message. No
reply. So, as the next day passed, I went into research mode—straight to Google
and sadly, there it was: 'John H. Gilmore, obituary.'
Hard
to believe then, still is.
We
exchanged visits a couple of times. My wife Sharon, daughter Mindy and I
vacationed to San Diego and spent a lot of time with Marilyn, young Stacy and
John then. They made the trip to Illinois to see us sometime in the 70s.
One
day when they were here, they expressed interest in seeing something that was
in Indianapolis, which was within 25 miles of my home territory. So, we decided
on a road trip.
I
chose the slow route, US 36, so they could enjoy a pit stop in Amish country.
We were within 20 miles of the Indiana border when Marilyn announced that Stacy
needed a restroom.
Filling
stations along that section of the two-lane highway were few and far between. I
said we would stop at the next one. Minutes later, and no public restroom in
sight, Marilyn announced that Stacy was getting a No. 2 call.
My car
was pretty new, so I stepped on it. Speed limit was 55 then. We could see a gas
station ahead, so I kicked it up to 65 and pulled up to the restroom side,
Marilyn grabbed Stacy and jumped out—just in time she told us a few minutes
later. We pulled back onto the highway and resumed speed (the legal limit).
Suddenly,
I saw flashing red lights in my rearview mirror. I pulled over. An Illinois
state trooped greeted me.
"Know
why I pulled you over"?
"No,
sir."
"I
clocked you at 65, then you pulled back of that filling station, trying to lose
me."
I
admitted that I drove 65 for a couple of miles so we could get the little girl
to a restroom; it was an emergency.
"Like
I never heard that one before," the trooper replied, before telling me to
stay put while he returns to his squad car to write a ticket. A few minutes
later, I had ticket in hand and we were on our way.
John
insisted on paying the fine, but I talked him out of it. However, I never let
him forget it, nudged him about it every chance I got.
Looking
back, that speeding ticket was special; only one I ever got in my life.
R.I.P.
My Friend
