Long before the interstates carved their efficient, soulless lines across the country, there was a different kind of road — and a different kind of driver. The kind who didn't need a destination to justify the trip. Route 66 drew those people in like a magnet: the restless, the bold, the ones who believed that the journey was the point and speed was just the language they spoke. That culture — chrome and fire and wind and nerve — never went away. It just found the people who were still fluent.
Full throttle. No apologies. That's always been the way.
