Jen: a Girl, a Car, a Road-getting Her Kicks on Route 66
Chapter 9

Copyright© 2010 by Dapper Dan

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 9 - It's 1963. The girl is twenty-three. The car is a 1963 Corvette. The road is Route 66 and Jen is out to find her kicks. Once again, my quotation mark formatting got left out after I submitted. Sorry. Also, chapter one (my introduction) was edited, Don’t know about this version. The chapter titles should have been headed as follows: Two Chicago, Three Bloomington, Four Springfield, Five St. Louis, Six Tulsa, Seven Amarillo, Eight Tucumcari, Nine Holbrook, Ten Santa Monica,

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual  

HOLBROOK, AZ

The morning sun was only an hour old as I crossed the New Mexico/Arizona state line a short time before reaching Lupton, at 1,536 miles past Go, that beautiful clear desert morning. I had just short of three-hundred eighty-six miles to go to get to the California line near Topok/Needles. But my immediate destination was Holbrook, Arizona, and the famous Wigwam Motel. My '63 Vette, split window coupe (a fully optioned Z06 model) that I call Miss Swifty, was purring like a cat at 100 plus mph as I sped along the Mother Road on the seventy some odd miles to Holbrook. I was twenty-three, single, footloose and fancy free at the time.

If you've been following my sexcapades along the Mother Road, you know that back then, I had flaming, naturally red hair on my head and my full, but neatly trimmed bush, a pair of swinging thirty-eights, and the rest of a well proportioned and athletically fit body to complete my five foot four frame.

I knew from my pre-trip notes that the first section of Route 66 in eastern Arizona passes across the southeast edge of the Navajo Indian Reservation--or as the Navajo prefer to call it, the Navajo Nation. The Nation is a large area, larger than the state of West Virginia and contains some 260,000 residents. The most famous landmark of the Nation is Widow Rock approximately twenty miles north of 66 between the state line and Lupton.

Lupton itself, originally a railroad and cattle town, now exists on the tourist trade. Most of the exchange is in trading posts that feature Navajo-made arts, crafts, and souvenirs. Of course, there's a gas station or two. Route 66 continues on via Sanders and Chambers towards the city of Navajo at 1,567 miles past Go. Nearby are Navajo Springs where Arizona was established as a territory in 1863--just fifteen years after the U.S. had gained control of it as a result of the Mexican War.

It was in Navajo that I picked up another hitch hiker. I'd stopped for coffee again and a pee. The hitcher was in the little cafe having a cup as well. A cardboard sign near him was labeled, Flagstaff. When I exited the ladies room, I ambled over to his table under his obvious scrutiny.

"Do you mind if I join you? My name's Jen, what's yours?"

"By all means, join me. I'm called "Red" for obvious reasons, but my name is James."

"So, Red, have you ordered yet?"

"No, coffee's all I was gonna have."

"Sure you don't want something? It's my nickel."

"Well, if you're gonna twist my arm, I guess I'd not turn down ham and eggs with toast to go with my coffee."

"You a college boy?"

"Yeah, I'm hitchin' home after summer session. I'll be a senior in the fall. I gotta late summer job waitin' for me in Flagstaff. I'm just a poor college student, too poor to have my own car just yet."

"Well, Red, I think I'll have a sweet roll with my coffee. I already had my breakfast."

A waitress ambled over and we ordered. I told Red what I was doing on Route 66 and he asked some astute questions. The guy was no adonis, but he was reasonably good looking, definitely masculine, and apparently horny as he copped looks at my exposed cleavage whenever he thought I wasn't looking.

He finished his ham and eggs and we were drinking a last cup of coffee. Red had a dreamy look in his eyes and he wiggled around on his chair a bit more than what I thought normal. His left hand would disappear under the table off an on as along with his wiggling as though something was uncomfortable.

"Tell me something, Red. Do you have cooties, or are you trying to accommodate a boner?"

"Christ, nothing like being blunt about it, Jen."

"Why beat around the bush? You appear to like what you see, and my bet is you'd like to have some of it. Right?"

"Weeelll, damn it, as long's we're being blunt about it, yes."

"Ok then. You know I'm headed west, so I can give you your lift to Flagstaff for a price."

"I just told you, Jen, I'm a poor college student. I don't have enough money in my pocket right now to buy my own breakfast."

"It wasn't money I had in mind."

"Oh?"

Red's interest had definitely picked up.

"No. What I had in mind was a good roll in the hay in Flagstaff before we part company. A really good roll in the hay. You up to that."

"I'm up to it right now--that's what all the wiggling's about. You were right about that. But I can wait 'til Flagstaff."

"Good. I could use a little company on the road for a while. If you're a good boy, I might even let you drive part of the way."

When we got to Swifty, his eyes bugged out at what he might get to drive. I got behind the wheel to start out

"Jeeze, I never thought I'd be riding in a Vette. Gorgeous set of wheels, Jen."

"thanks, Red."

As we rode along, Red told me about the general area at my prompting and questions. Just west of the Navajo community we were just leaving was the entrance to the Petrified Forest National Park set up to preserve the amazing geological and archaeological features. Literally, a whole forest of downed trees was covered by silt and "petrified" over the centuries. We drove on down the highway.

Red said, "On the north edge of the Petrified Forest Park is another tourist attraction, the Painted Desert."

"What's that?" Of course I knew most all of this information from my pre-trip research, but it was a way of keeping Red talking. Besides, every once in a while, new little tidbits of information came out that I'd known nothing about.

"The Painted Desert is an area of very richly colored rocks and earth created by the gradual erosion of ancient lake beds. The park also contains quite a number of excavated remains of Native American sites as well."

We drove on in silence for a bit. In due time, Holbrook hove into view at 1,609 miles past Go. This community is another example of how the railroad was the making of the American West. In 1881, The Atlantic and Pacific Railroad laid its tracks through an area that was know as Horsehead Crossing. The following year, a railroad station was built and the small settlement's name was changed to Holbrook in honor of H.R. Holbrook, the first chief engineer of the railroad.

"And Jen, the 'painted ladies' far outnumbered the 'proper women' in the early days. Yes, early Holbrook was a cattle town first, then the railroaders mixed in and the town soon developed all the vices of a typical wild west town."

"Red, I recall reading something about the 'Hashknife Outfit' around this area. What was that"

'Yes, Jen. The Hashknife's formal name was the Aztec Land and Cattle Company that began operating in 1884, I think it was. They were the second largest cattle ranch in the U.S. with something like 60,000 head of cattle and the owners employed hundreds of cowboys."

"Well, think of that."

"Yeah. Holbrook became the county seat in 1895, which ensured its continued existence. Things slowly settled down, especially with the coming of Route 66 some thirty or so years later."

With little difficulty, due to the proliferance of signage, I drove up to the Wigwam Village in Holbrook. Since I first read about it, I'd wanted to visit the Wigwam Village (motel) and fuck my brains out in one of its concrete Intian Teepees. The tourist "cabins" (individual teepees or wigwams) of the court was one of the first of seven such complexes built from Florida to California between the thirties and the fifties.

This one at Holbrook had fifteen concrete wigwams that are fourteen feet in diameter at the base and thirty two feet high. Guests face either one or two beds (we rented one with only one bed) as they walk in the door. There's a window and a TV on the right side with a desk and an air conditioner on the left side. The bathroom door is beside (or between) and behind the bed (s).

Red, and I walked into a relatively cool wigwam as the A/C had been on low. We were both more than ready to get out of the hot, Arizona sun. I was also more than ready for something else, as was, I think, Red. I'd been flirting with him ever since I picked him up in Lupton at breakfast. My usual traveling attire of halter top and short shorts, sans bra and panties, along with bare feet in sandals, gave him numerous and extensive views of my cleavage. This is not to mention my nearly exposed pussy as the seam of my shorts rode up tight into my pussy slit, making a well defined cameltoe. Red was nearly drooling much of the time and a large bulge was showing in his shorts.

As we dropped our bags, I turned to face him, slipping out of my halter top and dropping it to the floor. My swinging 38s stood out proudly, led by my erect nipples, to stare straight at him.

"Like what you see now, Red?"

He needed no further encouragement. Red immediately dropped his mouth to the succulent treat I offered. He expertly kissed and licked his way around the topography. Electric currents radiated outward and downward from my tits to meet the tingling sensations rising from my aching pussy.

"Oh yes, just like that, Red."

I grabbed Red's crotch and gave it a not too gentle squeeze. He yelped and bit my nipple. I squeezed his bulge again and he bit my other nipple. He then straightened up, stepped out of his sandals, and dropped his shorts (sans underwear). Out bounced a vividly pulsing, gorgeous dick of a size to please any woman. The pearling precum indicated he was more than ready. I was on my knees in a flash and that big fuck stick was in my mouth.

God, but he tasted good! Red was trembling from head to foot, he was so keyed up and horny. His dick was throbbing in my mouth. I swallowed and tongued his circumcised head, sticking the tip of my tongue into his prick hole. I felt that dick tense and quickly grabbed it around the base, squeezed hard, and held on. I just managed to stop his latent orgasm in time.

"I don't want you to cum yet, I want to play some more first!"

"Ummm," was all Red could say.

As I dropped my shorts and stepped out of my sandals, I said, "Lose your tank top and let's move to the bed."

I grabbed hold of his bobbing flesh pole and pulled him to the bed as he tossed his top to the floor. I dropped on the bed on my ass and laid back.

"Fuck my tits, Red."

So, he straddled me on his knees and plopped his big stick between my tits. I squeezed those thirty-eights into his cock and he proceeded to thrust up and down.

"Go slow so we can both enjoy this for a while."

I would nibble on his cock head as he reached the top of his up thrust. When Red again pulsed in anticipation of an ejaculation, I once more grabbed the base of his cock in a tight squeeze to shut it down. Not yet, buddy, not yet. I was really excited by then too. My pussy mound was rising and falling in time with the thrusts he was making in my cleavage.

So, at last, I said, "Enough already, now I want you to eat me and then fuck me. Fuck me stupid, until you fuck my brains out!"

"Not just yet, Jen, now it's my turn to tease,"

Red kissed his way down my chest to my navel. There he made three licking circles around that cavity, which nearly sent me up the wall. He continued kissing and licking down to the neatly manicured lawn on my pussy mound where he made slow circles with his index finger, chasing that finger with his tongue. He had a time trying to contain the thrusting of my pussy while he did that.

Suddenly changing tactics, Red went to my right foot and gave my toes a tongue bath. He worked his way up to my ankle and then kissed his way up to my knee. He worked his way up my calf before he lifted my leg to lick and kiss behind the knee. I was shaking and quivering to beat hell. Keith kissed and licked his way up my inner thigh and back to my pussy mound, all without touching my pussy lips. By that time, I was issuing pussy juice like a leaking faucet, but Red ignored that.

After making two circuits of my mound again, Red went to my left leg and repeated the process in reverse, down the inner thigh to my toes. I just thought I'd been shaking before.

"For God's sake, Red, I need your cock. Give it to me. Fuck me. I'm dying, Red, damn it all FUCK ME! Ohhhh GOoood, plug my burning hole, you fucker."

He looked up and winked at me with a smirky smile. Red then moved up into the saddle to rub his cock head up and down my labia, still avoiding my pussy slit until, at last, in rapid succession, he made two swipes with his cock head up and down my soaked and glistening slit. He centered himself on target and plunged his fat cock in to his balls before I knew what hit me.

I was so pent up and heated, I couldn't hold back any longer. As that big, fat dick hit bottom, I exploded into a mindless and raving orgasm of pussy juice and screams that went on for some time. Red unloaded right behind me, pumping and pumping and pumping his hot cock cream deep into my pussy. Red was still humping me hard as he squirted. With a final squirt and a feral moan, he collapsed on top of me, still fully hard and coupled to me.

We lay like that for quite some time. Red did take some weight off me, but remained hard and plugged in. Then, unbelievably and still hard, his cock did a slow twitch that became a minute thrust that then built into full length thrusts as he came alive again. With very little difficulty, I came alive again as well and met him, thrust for thrust. That time, our coupling was much more gentle and slow, sensual, and incredibly pleasurable. On that one, we orgasmed together in absolute ecstasy.

I looked over at the clock which read six p.m. and said, "Why don't we shower and go to supper?"

"Sounds great to me, Jen."

Red proceeded to uncouple and get up. We showered separately, dressed, and went out to Miss Swifty. We found a nice place to eat and enjoyed a great supper. As we were leaving, Red tripped on the sidewalk and fell. Cringing in pain, he said, "I'm pretty sure I broke my leg, you better call an ambulance."

At the hospital, after treatment and splinting, Red said, "Don't worry, I'll call my brother. You can go on with your trip. I won't be doing much traveling for a bit now."

When he hung up the phone, Red said, "My brother will be here by mid afternoon tomorrow. The doctor wants to keep me overnight for observation anyway as it was a tricky break. You go on ahead with your plans. By the way, you were the best piece of ass I've ever had and I wish you the very best for the future!"

"Oh, Red, thank you. You weren't so damned bad yourself!"

We had a passionate and lingering good-bye kiss before I left his hospital room with a wave and a swish of my ass.

I went back to the wigwam, stripped, and tried to nap. I didn't sleep well. I woke up several times to pee and groggily crawled back into bed. The next morning, I phoned Red and found he was doing well and feeling fine. We said good-bye again and I hung up. Back at the Wigwam, I checked out and hit the Mother Road for Winslow, headed for Meteor Crater.

Joseph City was next up, just ten miles down the road. My near photographic mind recalled some the information about this tiny little wide spot in the road, population of around 1,500, or less. It dates back to 1876 when it was first known as Allen's Camp by its Mormon founders. That makes it the longest established, non-Indian community in Navajo County. In its early days, it was nearly destroyed by flooding of the Colorado River fourteen different times until a successful dam was at last completed.

Nearby was a place I just had to stop in out of pure curiosity. The place is called the Jackrabbit Trading Post, dating from 1949. It became so famous that it announced itself in simple signs: a large black silhouette of a sitting jackrabbit on a big yellow sign board and the words, "Here It Is." As originally opened, the building had thirty, twelve inch jackrabbit cutouts hopping along the roof line and a large rabbit painted on the side of the building.

A three foot high composition rabbit with yellow eyes was installed just inside the entrance door. That rabbit had more young children on its back for a family picture than anyone can count. I looked around and finally purchased a small jackrabbit stuffed toy as a souvenir and then got back on the road.

As I drove, I chuckled over what helped make the post a legend. It was the advertising. To compete with the numerous other trading posts of the road, founder, James Taylor, joined forces with Wayne Troutner who owned a For Men Only store in Winslow. For a thousand miles, from Springfield, Missouri to Joseph City, the two put up billboards of hopping rabbits paired up with a lusty, dancing cowgirl. Thus were travelers enticed into stopping at the Jackrabbit Trading post with its huge, red on yellow sign saying simply, "Here It Is," and the Men's Only Store in Winslow. As merchants have long known. sex sells.

I'd just left the Trading Post with Winslow up next when I checked my rearview mirror to see the flashing lights of a squad car on my tail. Then I heard the siren and saw the officer motioning me to pull over.

"Shit! I sure don't need to be tied up in traffic court now."

I slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder apron and stopped. The officer took some time as he checked out my plates, but he eventually came up to my window. Miss Swifty had been idling, cooling down.

The officer first said, "Good afternoon, Miss. Would you turn off the ignition please?"

I did.

"Thank you. Did you see that little town back there a couple of miles?"

"Yes sir, I did."

"Well, I'm surprised that you did. You were running forty miles above the speed limit on the way through and you've been scorching the road ever since. I was barely able to catch you. You could've taken out any one of our citizens on the street and probably never known it."

I remained silent. The officer was getting an eyeful of my cleavage and between my legs as I was dressed in my usual short shorts, halter top and sandals. Naturally, I was sans socks, panties, and bra. He noticed that I noticed that he was looking.

Prefaced by a large gulp, he said, "Er, ah, um, may I p, p, please see your license and registration?"

I got bold then and said to the officer, "If you like what you see, I'll make it worth your while to write me a warning ticket only rather than a full blown ticket."

I batted my eyes and smiled demurely as I leaned into the door so he could get a really good view of my valley.

After a moment or two of hesitation and a swift look around, the officer said, "Ah ... step out of the car, please."

As I stepped out, I noticed for the first time, the crumbled remains of an old adobe dwelling under a big mesquite tree af few yards back from the road. The officer led me that way.

"Why don't we get out of the sun, Jennifer, and discuss this in the shade?"

The shade just happened to be behind the ruins, out of sight of the road. The officer's name tag read, "Joe Jeffers."

"Well, Jennifer, it looks as if your license, registration, and insurance are in order. Let's see what you look like and then I'll decide on what ticket to write. Do the top first."

So, teasingly, in slow motion, I lifted my top, exposing my swinging thirty-eights with their half dollar size aureole, inch by inch. Officer Jeffers gave a low whistle as my big mounds were finally revealed in their full and naked glory.

"Now, the shorts."

Once again, I did a teasingly slow wiggle and push down of the shorts, inch by inch until the waistband had reached my knees. Then I dropped them to the ground.

Then, there I stood before officer Jeffers, naked as the day I was born, except for my sandaled feet.

"Now, I want to cop a feel or two, pun intended, honey, before you blow me."

Officer Jeffers stepped up to me and ran both his hands all over my big boobs.

"A hell of a lot better than I got at home."

Officer Jeffers left his right hand to continue his tit play while he took his left down my back to my crack and then dropped that hand down and between my legs to go after my pussy slit from behind.

Though I'd not planned to, I felt my pussy flood with moisture and knew Officer Jeffers was getting me steamed up, sexually that is. I could feel he was getting steamed up also as the bulge in his pants grew larger and larger and pushed up against my pussy from the front. After playing with me like that for some time, he dropped his hands and stepped back a pace.

He unzipped and reeled out a fuck stick that would make any whore cry for joy, it was so large and fat.

"Do me, slut, and do a good job of it!"

I went to my knees in front of him and worked over that big cock of his. Using two hands, I stroked him up and down while I licked that monster bulb of a cock head. I could feel him getting awfully close to shooting his load, so I grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed his jism to a stop.

"Whoa, boy, you got me so worked up now and you're not leaving me with a head of steam and the safety valve locked down!"

I knew he wouldn't want to get his uniform mussed up, so, backing up against the crumbling wall, I said, "Now stick it in, buster, and you had better do a good job of it, too!"

Well, Officer Jeffers did stick that big dick in and he did do a damned good job of it. The problem was it didn't take very long. We were both carrying a super heated head of steam by that time and we both exploded into a messy orgasm before he could give a half dozen thrusts. He backed out pretty fast in order to keep his uniform front from getting wet cum stains all over the front of it. He was still panting pretty hard as he did so.

"Well slut, that was good enough that I'm not going to give you a ticket of any kind, just a verbal warning. Slow Down, especially in a populated area."

With that, Officer Jeffers used my shorts to wipe his big dong clean, the bastard. Then he tucked his cock back into his pants, zipped up, and retreated back to his cruiser.

I scrubbed my shorts in the sand to clean off the cum and dry them out some before I pulled them and my top back on and went back to Swifty. After the cruiser disappeared back towards Joseph City, I racked up the speedo to 100 for the rest of the drive to Winslow.

Winslow lay some twenty-three miles west of Joseph City and is situated 1,642 miles past Go. Once again, the railroad was instrumental in the founding of a community, in this case, the date was 1881. I recalled and reexamined some of my notes as I saw the city appear a few miles ahead.

One Edward F. WInslow was the namesake of the city. He was Vice-President of the Atlantic and Pacific Line, a company later acquired by the Santa Fe Railroad. Since 1908, Winslow's railroad had been working in partnership with the Fred Harvey Company to build luxury hotels in close proximity to the railroad stations. The La Posada Harvey House Hotel in Winslow was the apogee of their success. It would turn out to be the last of the hotels built in this chain.

The Winslow/Santa Fe team built a Spanish Colonial Rancho-style station that was La Posada and a masterpiece. It opened in 1930 and was staffed by the famous Harvey Girls. The establishment was highly successful until the post war slump reduction in rail travel. La Posada was closed in 1957 but rebounded with vigor a few years later with the boom of the motoring tourists.

A dozen miles further west brought me to my main point of interest in Arizona, Meteor City and Meteor Crater south and east of the "city." Meteor city isn't really a city at all, but rather, just a lone trading post, come tourist stop (trap). The trading post does possess some items of interest--a geodesic dome, a vintage truck display, and the world's largest dream catcher. Just past the trading post lies the road south to Meteor Crater, my target.

Meteor Crater lies some twenty-five to thirty miles southeast of Winslow and about six or so miles south of Meteor City. The crater's just over three quarters of a mile in diameter and some five-hundred and fifty feet deep. It was formed, the geologists say, some 50,000 years ago when an iron mass weighing in the neighborhood of 60,000 tons entered the earth's atmosphere and landed in that little piece of Arizona.

Although NASA conducted "moon walks" there with the astronauts in the 1960s, people are not generally allowed down into the crater bottom. Even the path around the circumference has been blocked off to the public except for a short, guided tour section. None-the-less, it has long been one of my fantasies to get fucked at the bottom of that crater. Wouldn't you just know it?

The afternoon was getting on when I got there, and it took me a while to find someone to help me. But eventually, I found a man. I won't say who or how as it might cause him a lot of problems, most likely his job, but late that night, he got me to the crater bottom. The prize for doing so, which was my offer, was to be the one to fuck me silly when we got down there. The guy was older, probably somewhere between forty and fifty-five, maybe more, somewhat paunchy, and beginning to bald. But he wasn't all that bad looking. And he was pathetically eager. I thought I'd make his day. I think this was to be one of, if not the, major highlight of his year.

It was half past midnight, we were on the bottom of the crater, and we were shivering. Though hot during the day, the desert cools quickly at night and the bottom of that big hole was damn well freezing cold. It didn't take long, though, for both of us to get warmed up really good. I will say this for "Ned," as I'll call him, he did have uncommon stamina. We stripped and started rubbing each other to get warm. One thing led to another, quickly, and we were off.

We played for over two hours. Whatever else Ned had or didn't have, he had a decent cock and he most definitely knew how to use it. He fucked me up, down, and sideways--in the mouth, in the pussy, in the ass. He fucked me standing up, missionary, sitting, doggie style, him on top, me on top facing front then facing back cowgirl stye; the guy just wouldn't quit. I don't know if he took a double dose of some aphrodisiac first or what, but he stayed hard the whole damned time and granted me my wish. He fucked me silly, until I thought my brains really would run out. We sure weren't worrying about the cold anymore, I can tell you that!

But finally, Ned said, "We have to quit and get out of here before daylight, or there'll be hell to pay."

So, that's what we did, dressed and got the hell out of there. Once up top again, we parted and went our separate ways. Back in the park lodge, where I'd rented a room the day before, I ran a tub and bathed. Then I drained the water out and refilled the tub, nearly to the top. I added in all sorts of bubbly, sweet smelling things the room was stocked with and soaked/slept until the water was so cold, I had to get out. The time was just shy of 10 a.m. when I stepped out, dried quickly, and jumped into bed to sleep until I woke up hours later at midnight.

There was no way I wanted to get underway again at the hour of the night. Instead, I pulled out my research notes for the rest of the Arizona and the first part of the California sections of Route 66 that I'd be rolling down in the morning. I kept at it until I got sleepy enough to go back to bed. Dawn was some time past breaking when I next opened my eyes.

I went out for breakfast. Just for something to do, I asked the waitress if there was anything of interest around other than the crater.

"Well, if you like ghost towns, there are two nearly atop one another just a few miles west of town (Meteor City) that you could visit. You can't miss them because of the prominent signs."

So, I was off to visit Two Guns and Canyon Diablo, the two old ghost towns. Canyon Diablo, during its heydays of glory, was described thus: "Tombstone, Virginia City, and Abilene could not hold a candle to this end-of-the-rail depravity." Two Guns was built long after Canyon Diablo was already dead and nearly buried in the rocks and drifting sand. Two guns survived long enough to witness the advent of and thrive during the peak years of old Route 66.

The Twin Arrows Trading Post at 1,674 miles past Go, was the next interest site. Drivers can't miss it--not with those colorful, monstrous sized twin advertising arrows towering sixty feet above the ground at a sharp angle just off the roadway. I didn't stop-there wasn't much else to see.

Padre Canyon was next up. The oldest alignment of the road angled northwest, crossing the canyon that dramatically breaks the relatively flat plains of the high desert. Predating Route 66, the 1914 Padre Canyon Bridge, on the old Flagstaff-Winslow highway, was one of the most dangerous bridges with its accompanying approach roads on the whole of Route 66...

Because of the accidents on the bridge and the serpentine roads leading down to it and back up the other side, a realignment of Route 66 along with a new bridge for the new stretch of road, occurred in 1937. Though a little worse for wear by my time, the architecture of the bridge reflects another era when model-T's ruled the highways and byways.

Finally, in the words of Bobby Troup, "don't forget Winona," just sixteen mile east of Flagstaff. It was Troup's song, "Get Your Kicks on Route 66" that made Winona an icon of the road. It is deliberately out of sequence with the other cities in the song because of its near-miss: "Don't forget Winona" as the lyrics of the song read. The name was included in the song only because Troup needed something to rhyme with "Arizona" in the lyrics.

 
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