They called it America's Mainstreet because it was exactly that — the spine of a country still figuring itself out.
Route 66 didn't just connect cities. It connected eras. The towns that grew up along its edges built their whole identities around the sound of an engine slowing down and a traveler stopping in. The diners, the motor courts, the gas stations with hand-painted signs — all of it existed because someone kept moving west and needed a place to rest their ambition for a night. A century later, the centennial belongs to everyone who ever understood that some roads are more than roads.
The main street of a nation. Still open. Still calling.
