The People Keeping Route 66 History Alive

Slug Bug Ranch at The Big Texan

Amarillo, Texas

The Big Texan opened in 1960 to meet the Texas-sized expectations of Route 66 travelers through the panhandle. It’s grown into a compound of affiliated attractions, including the Slug Bug Ranch. Now run by the second generation — boomer Bobby Lee, whom we spoke with, and his brother, Danny — a transition to the third generation is in the works.

These real-deal cowboys would get off work at the Amarillo stockyards and stop at The Big Texan for nickel beers. My dad put them at the center table, right in front of the char-broiler, so tourists could see these cowboys sitting there trying to outdo each other. One day, he said, “You know what? We got 12 seats at this table and it’s $5 a seat. I’m going to bring out one-pound steaks over an hour, and whoever eats the most gets to keep that money.”

One cowboy ate four-and-a-half one-pound steaks, which is 72 ounces. He showed off by ordering a baked potato, a shrimp cocktail, a tossed salad and some bread. It was so impressive, my dad said that anybody who comes in and can eat the same meal in one hour, I’m going to give it to you for free.

When Route 66 was bypassed here, we went from a full dining room to two people for the whole day. We had to move, and land was available a few miles away along I-40, off the original Route 66 alignment. Over the years, we added a motel with a Texas-shaped swimming pool, an RV park, a brewery and the Starlight concert venue. Then two summers ago, we got the call about the Slug Bug Ranch — five Volkswagens buried at an angle, inspired by the Cadillac Ranch here in Amarillo.

It was nearby in Conway, right on Route 66. The family that owned it sold the land, but the new owners didn’t want the Volkswagens. When they asked if I’d like to continue the legacy, I said, “You better believe it.” We went with a tow truck and a couple of flatbeds and moved them down here, next to our RV park.

Anything that we put out there will get painted, including trash cans and signage. We put in concrete sidewalks, so people can access it in a wheelchair. We put lights up, because people don’t want to go out there in the middle of the day when it’s 105 degrees. During summer, we have a dance there every Friday and Saturday night, underneath the stars.

Emma Jean’s Holland Burger Café

Victorville, California

Opened by the Hollands in 1947, the cafe catered to Route 66’s long-haul truckers. When one of those truckers bought it for his wife, a waitress there, her name was added to the café’s title. Now, Emma Jean’s daughter-in-law, 51-year-old Shawna Gentry, is the owner, serving food made from scratch to locals and tourists alike.

Back in the day, the cement workers and truck drivers would come in before work, and they would all line up at the counter, drink their coffee and smoke their cigarettes. They’d flip me a quarter and tell me, “Baby, play my song.” I’d go over to the jukebox and play that truck driver’s favorite song. I knew them all.

I was seeing Emma Jean’s son, Brian, and coming in for her when she needed me to. Pretty soon Brian and I were running it together — he was the cook, and I was the waitress. When she passed away in ’96, Brian’s dad was going to sell it, and I said, “You know what? I don’t like that deal. You tear those papers up and take that ‘for sale’ sign down.”

We ran the café together for almost 30 years, until Brian passed away unexpectedly in 2024. I didn’t realize how many lives we’d touched until his celebration of life — there had to have been anywhere from 350, 400 people, if not more. People thought, Oh, she’s going to sell it. When I told everybody I was going to keep it open; if the roof could’ve come off that chapel, it would have. I felt it was my duty to continue to be part of this good, supportive community and preserve our history.

Now we’re more family friendly. We do Mickey Mouse pancakes; the kids get all excited. And I still get my regulars in. I’ve got a couple of families I’ve been waiting on for five, six generations, and customers that’ve come in for 40 years. I know their orders. We don’t even have a conversation about what they want to eat.

And I get tourists every single day. Like today, I had them from the U.K., from Germany, Brazil. And you just go, How did you find this place out in the middle of the desert? Some of them have had friends come and tell them, “Oh my god, you gotta stop here!” In other countries, they don’t have diners like this. They only see it on TV. They want to come feel real Americana.

Pontiac-Oakland Museum

Pontiac, Illinois

Tim Dye, 65, who founded the museum in July 2011, notes that the Pontiac car and Route 66 both turn 100 this year. Coincidentally, Dye and the route share a birthday — his 66th.

When I was 16, my dad and I fixed up a wrecked ’68 GTO that I drove to school. Ever since then, I’ve had GTOs and Pontiacs. After getting settled in life, my regular pay would go toward paying the bills and I’d work overtime for money toward Pontiacs, Pontiac parts and Pontiac memorabilia.

On April 27, 2009, General Motors announced they were dropping the Pontiac. I turned to my wife, Penny, and said, almost jokingly, “It’s up to us now, I guess. Since they don’t care about selling new Pontiacs, they probably don’t care about preserving that history.”

Months later, as a friend and I were headed back home to Oklahoma from Chicago, we saw the sign for Pontiac, Illinois. I’m like, “I’ve never been here. Let’s pull in.”

We stopped into the Walldog, [a mural and sign art exhibit about the history of painted outdoor advertising], for not even 10 minutes. I’d just finished writing a book about Pontiac memorabilia and history, and the woman working that day bought one from me. As I turned to leave, I said, “If you ever think you want to do a Pontiac car museum, let me know.” She gave that book to the mayor, and the next day he called me and said, “How would you like to move your collection to Pontiac, Illinois?”

Penny and I sold our home in Oklahoma and jumped in with both feet. By then, we had 20 cars we’d collected over the years, including a 1970 Firebird Formula 400 with 436 miles on it from new, and a bright red ’54 Star Chief convertible. We moved everything into a city-owned building with wood floors and a tin ceiling, right across from the beautiful courthouse on the classic Midwest small-town square. It was an instant museum.

Lots of people doing Route 66 start in Chicago and go west. Pontiac, Illinois, is one of their first stops. The Route 66 museum is here. Then they did the big Route 66 shield mural, one of the most famous sites on the route. Everybody wants to photograph their car or just themselves with that mural. So many little towns turned into ghost towns, and the city didn’t want to see that happen. They saw tourism as the key to keeping downtown Pontiac alive.

Inspired to hit the route? Find anniversary events at route66centennial.org.

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