A hundred years of America doesn't look like a history book — it looks like a road.
When they laid Route 66, the country was still young enough to believe a highway could hold it together. And for a long time, it did. The people who drove it carried their whole lives in the back seat — hopes packed tight next to everything they owned, heading somewhere the road promised was better. That road shaped towns, launched careers, broke hearts, and healed others. The centennial isn't nostalgia. It's a reckoning with how much one stretch of asphalt can carry.
A century of America, measured in miles. Every one of them earned.
