Today certainly moved forward at snail's pace, but it turned out to be loads of fun. Our plan was to follow as much of the century-old Lincoln Highway across Illinois as we could conveniently find. But since the old route follows a variety of modern numbered highways, we sometimes got lost when the Lincoln markers were absent or obscured by traffic. We followed modern highway 30 for half the morning, then we followed highway 38 for a time. All the while we had to keep an eye out for the traditional red, white, and blue signs that marked the original route of the Lincoln.
this meant that at one point we lost, not only the Lincoln Highway route, but also a sense of exactly what direction we were traveling. This was made easy by the fact that Illinois is basically flat and filled with look-alike cornfields. In addition, the sky was overcast and stormy-looking all morning, which made it impossible to navigate by the sun.
Finally, when we had become completely lost, and our two compasses didn't even agree with each other, we had to plug in Jezebel and trust her to get us out of our predicament. This she did, though I know she's just biding her time, saving up her retribution for a later date when our guard is down.
By mid morning we had reached the town of Geneva, Illinois, and we decided to pull over and park the truck on a conveniently empty main street. Both of us had had enough of riding for awhile, and we decided to do some walking. Leaving the truck parked at the curb in a "3 hour" parking zone, we set off in an eastward direction with the intention of walking the entire length of main street on one side, then returning on the other side.
The first thing we noticed were a couple of 1920s vintage gas stations that had been converted into a bank and an insurance office respectively. Though I would naturally always prefer that the stations were restored to their former glory, just having them survive at all is the next best thing.
After taking a couple of photos of the stations, we continued walking Geneva's main street. Our next discovery was nothing less than mind-blowing! Some of you may know that Concetta's first job as a teenager, newly graduated from high school, was at the B. F. Goodrich Company in Akron, Ohio. Incredibly, the next thing we discovered on our exploratory walk was an old B. F. Goodrich dealer. For a moment we stood looking in the window of the ancient store, just appreciating the vintage Goodrich collectibles on display there. Then, noting that the posted hours for the store seemed to indicate that it was open, we turned the knob and stepped inside.
We didn't see anyone at first and just wandered the sales floor looking at all the Goodrich signs, photos, and other memorabilia. Finally a middle-aged woman appeared from the back and asked if we needed any help. Naturally, Concetta launched into an explanation of why we had come, and how long ago she had worked at the Goodrich company. It wasn't long until we all were immersed in the complete history of the building, even to the extent of the woman dragging out the historic buildings survey from the back room.
While this was going on, I was wandering the shop photographing some of the collectibles. Most of the advertising signs were 1960s and 1970s, I decided, but there were a number of photos and artifacts that were much older. My favorite of all the things I saw was a stack of 1940s whitewall tires that still had most of the cellophane wrapper on them. I asked the owner -- her name was Taffy -- if she would pose with the tires, which she happily did. I suspect that the tires would never find their way onto a vintage automobile, but some collector would just love to hang them on the wall of his garage. Shoot, I would love to hang them on the wall of MY garage!
Other than one shelf unit that held a collection of engine oils and other automotive products, we couldn't really see how the shop made any money. But Taffy told us that her husband's elderly father still owned the building, which had been built shortly after the turn of the century. That, I suppose, is why the building doesn't actually need to earn a living for the family. It's probably been free and clear since Eisenhower was President. Someday I'm sure the building will be refurbished to match all the other restored buildings on Geneva's main street where the townspeople have turned the downtown into a showplace. Until then it will remain like a time capsule of another century.
It was after leaving Geneva that we got completely lost trying to follow the Lincoln Highway route signs through the twists and turns of several urban areas. But once that was sorted out, we spent the rest of the morning cruising Illinois Route 38 toward our noontime goal of Franklin Grove, Illinois, the national headquarters town of the modern-day Lincoln Highway Association. Although the original LHA went out of business around 1928, a brand new organization sprang to life in 1993. This new national organization, as well as a dozen state chapters, have been largely responsible for signing the old route through dozens of modern cities and miles of countryside.
We had a nice surprise today for our lunch stop when we discovered the Northern Illinois University campus at Kishwaukee. We had been looking for a nice, level parking lot to put the rig for lunch, and the Kishwaukee campus looked ideal. It was only after we began our turn onto the street next to the parking lot that we noticed a sign declaring that a Lincoln Highway memorial and information kiosk could be found there. So in addition to an enjoyable lunch, we were also afforded the opportunity to learn more about the Lincoln's route through Illinois.
After lunch, we once again set off in search of the LHA headquarters in Franklin Grove. We had intended to be there by lunchtime, but we missed it by over twenty miles. We didn't roll into Franklin Grove until around 2:00 p.m., rather late in the day since we still had to find a camp for the evening.
Both of us anticipated spending at least thirty minutes perusing whatever highway displays they had on hand, but once we got inside we found no displays and precious little information that pertained to the highway. A little disappointed, I did find several "Big Band" record albums for sale, which I scooped right up. We could have purchased any number of books, posters, or t-shirts, but we elected to move on. The folks were nice in Franklin Grove, but the LHA headquarters was a bust.
Once on the road again, we decided to trust Jezebel to take us to our northwestern Illinois KOA camp for the night. She only needed to navigate about 25 miles, and thankfully she did just fine. She delivered us right to the front door with neither fuss nor muss. And what a camp it turned out to be. After taking a hike around the grounds we decided the Lena KOA was one of the nicest we've seen. It does have the usual semi-permanent residents, the existence of which tends to irritate me, but the camp is so wonderfully located on a heavily treed hilltop, bordered by miles of cornfields, that you just have to love it.So, as the sun sinks into the darkened cornfields to the west, and we finish our cocktails on the lanai, we wish you Happy Travels of you own!
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