Mother Road Museum 

East of Arcadia, at a curve along Route 66, is an eye-catching structure on a high cliff. It’s an eclectic building with half of a Volkswagen Beetle coming out of the second story. A clutter of old-timey yard art and metal signs by the mailbox clearly indicates that this is a Route 66 traveler’s paradise. 

The gravel parking lot is marked with a handwritten sign. I take concrete steps up the cliff to meet John Hargrove, owner and creator of John’s Route 66 Museum. After introductions, I’m toured around by the 82-year-old and Buddy the Dog, an aged golden labrador. We raise our voices above the sound of cars zooming along the highway below. 

Several rambling metal buildings are tucked into the hillside, surrounded by gnarled post oaks. Rustic antiques and old gas pumps are placed along the walkways. I pause to take a selfie with a Volkswagen bus painted to look exactly like Fillmore from Disney’s Cars. 

John is just opening his museum for the day, unlocking doors for any curious tourists who might stop by, like myself. Inside is a floor-to-ceiling explosion of roadside memorabilia, a mere hint of what is to come. There are old radios, a collection of cameras and Coca-Cola collectibles, a wall of matchbox cars, newspaper articles about his marathon days, and Route 66 signs everywhere. It’s a “cabinet of curiosities,” because John says he’s not a collector; he simply gathers, scavenges, and waits to see what might come next. 

His guest log from the previous day notes visitors from as far as Italy, Spain, and the Netherlands. A couple arrives from Utah. “Look around as much as you can stand,” John says, while we continue to stroll through the rooms he has built himself, from scratch at little or no cost. 

His love of automobiles is clear, as his workshop is filled with Ford Model T parts and a half-built car on a lift that he plans to finish and drive along Route 66 someday. While looking at a red airplane hanging from the ceiling, I learn that John’s great disappointment was being born color-blind. “My father was a pilot trainer during World War II. I was flying by the age of eight, but color-blindness kept me from becoming a commercial pilot,” John said. 

Instead, John settled for a career in automotive work, although he owned a hangar and three private planes. After retirement in 2001, he bought the eight undeveloped acres along Route 66, which he would eventually develop into a roadside stop. 

Early on, John built a 1950s-style diner with an old-fashioned soda counter for birthday parties. “When people started posting photos online, tourists started coming in and interrupting the parties. Now I just let people see it.” 

Our final stop is a library of automotive books and Route 66 travel guides. Toy models of Volkswagen cars are scattered along the bookshelves. It’s in this upstairs room that the authentic Volkswagen overhangs the main building. I settle into the driver’s seat and look out the windshield at an uninterrupted view of hills and trees along Route 66. 

“I had no vision this would become a tourist stop,” John said. “I’m floored that people like it, but if I can help other people get through life with a little more enjoyment, I’ve done my part.”