Seven Rules for Driving Route 66 After Midnight
- Never stop near Oatman, Arizona. A woman in a lace dress waves from the shoulder, barefoot in the dust. Her smile follows you in the rearview until sunrise.
- At the Cadillac Ranch, don’t touch the cars. The paint isn’t dry because it never dries. Each layer traps the breath of someone who forgot to leave.
- If you see lights behind you, check again. Only one set means headlights. Two means eyes. Three means you’re being followed by something that used to drive.
- Outside Amarillo, there’s a gas station with a single working pump. The attendant’s name tag says “Blue.” Nobody who’s met him remembers his face the same way twice.
- Avoid The Big Texan between three and four a.m. The neon still flickers, but the steak on your plate keeps bleeding no matter how long you wait.
- When you reach the ghost stretch near Glenrio, count the motels. There should be six. If you see seven, turn around immediately. You’ve crossed into the memory of the road.
- If you make it to dawn, park by any mile marker you trust. Listen hard. The wind carries country static and a woman’s voice saying your name, asking if you’ll keep her company a little longer.
