The lights never came on.
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Happy Friday, Reader! We’re camped on a friend’s property in Oklahoma this week, stealing calm between storm cells in the middle of tornado alley. The grass is impossibly green right now, the kind that only happens when the sky has been doing its worst. It’s been a good week for wildlife and quiet mornings, which feels like a gift this time of year. This week I want to tell you about a shot I almost didn’t get, and how Route 66 gives us more than we expect. We rolled up to Pops on a Saturday night with one thing on our minds: catching that giant soda bottle all lit up against the Oklahoma sky. It’s one of those Route 66 moments you plan around, the kind of shot that shows up in every travel guide covering this stretch of highway. It didn’t happen. We hung around until almost sunset, hoping for some night-sky magic. While I waited for the sun to drop and the lights to come on, I noticed the sunburst shining through the bottle’s rings. I decided to stop waiting and shoot what was actually in front of me. I tried a few compositions and ended up sitting on the ground to capture it, the bottle standing tall against the sky with a tiny burst of light peeking through the rings. It wasn’t the shot I came for but I realized it was something different, unexpected. When the lights stayed stubbornly off, we hopped on the bike and rode over to Wellston to shoot the pin sculpture instead. An hour later we swung back by Pops for round two, fingers crossed. The bottle was only partially lit, just enough to make you sigh. I’m glad I captured a “plan b” shot. Route 66 has always rewarded those who work with what they have. It started as a farmer’s barn. It adapted, the way the best things on Route 66 tend to do, and now the old wood ceiling carries music instead of hay. We stopped in for a shake that wasn’t on the menu and ended up with a slaw-topped Coney dog instead. Fourteen stools, a counter worn smooth by decades of elbows, and one of those happy accidents that happen when you just walk through the door. The mill stopped running but Yukon never stopped claiming it. The town keeps the silos painted and the neon sign maintained for no reason other than pride in what was. The Bridgeport Pony Bridge sat closed for over a year while the Canadian River kept moving underneath it. It reopened in May 2024, repainted yellow, like it had just been waiting for someone to ask it back. The “You Are Here” pin marks the exact midpoint of Oklahoma’s 432 miles of Route 66, and someone built it out of stained glass panels telling the whole state’s story. Wellston didn’t wait to be put back on the map. It made its own. One thing worth knowing.If you’re exploring the Oklahoma City stretch of Route 66, casino parking lots are worth adding to your short-term camping toolkit. Many casinos across the country have full hookup RV campgrounds on site, so it’s always worth checking before you roll in. Riverwind Casino in Norman doesn’t have hookups, but the designated RV lot is level, well lit, and security patrols through the night. We dry camped there, which kept us on track for our 100 consecutive days without hookups goal, and it put us within easy reach of everything on this section of the route. Not every road has to be Route 66. If you're planning your summer adventures, I have two posts worth bookmarking: NYC: 7 Iconic Photo Locations in One Day The Ultimate Coastal Adventure in Big Sur Next stop is Sand Springs, where the Tulsa stretch of the Mother Road is waiting.
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