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By Root 811 0

Interstate 44), which replaced more than a hundred miles of America’s Main Street. Oklahoma is also the state from which the characters fled in The Grapes of Wrath, in which John Steinbeck coined ‘The Mother Road’ to describe Route 66, immortalising it as ‘the path of a people in flight’ from dust bowl despair and starvation. It was also the first state to rec og nise Route 66’s historical and social significance. Enthusiasts established the Oklahoma Route 66 Association to preserve and promote the road, and they designed the ‘Historic Route 66’ signs that now punctuate the landscape all the way from Chicago to Los Angeles, having been adopted by most other states.

Route 66’s first miles in Oklahoma pass through fairly nondescript towns and villages. First there’s Quapaw, another former mining town, followed by Commerce, now semi-deserted, then Miami, from which a magnificent section of original 1926–37 Route 66 – bumpy, gravelly and only nine feet wide – stretches for two miles. A little while earlier, having passed through a wee ghost town, I’d spotted a handwritten sign by the side of the road: ‘Swamp Sale’, it said. Let’s have a look, I thought. You never know your luck. I’m one of those guys who sees a sign for a car-boot sale and thinks he’s bound to find a great guitar for twenty bucks. Maybe watching all those auction shows on television has done it. Whatever the reason, I was curious, so I pulled over and went for a wander.

Near the entrance, dressed in dungarees and lounging on a plastic garden chair, was a character straight out of The Grapes of Wrath. Shading himself from the sun under the raised rear door of a people carrier and some low trees, Vernon Willoughby looked kind of poor, but happy. A well-worn blue vest barely held in an impressive belly, and a greying beard framed his ruddy face. Around him, his family lazed in the sun, waiting for someone to take a look at their wares.

‘Are you selling those chickens and all?’ I pointed at some birds in a cage.

‘Yeah.’ Vernon had a twangy Oklahoma accent.

‘How much does a chicken cost?’

‘A lot of people sell ’em for fifteen dollars a piece when they’re grown, laying eggs.’

‘Yeah? And you?’

‘Anywhere from eight dollars to fifteen dollars.’

‘Eight to fifteen?’

‘Yeah.’ Vernon spoke very slowly and deliberately. ‘And how much is a duck?’

‘That’s for five. Because they grow quicker than chickens do.’

‘But the duck eggs are delicious, aren’t they?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Where do you come from yourself?’

‘A little town called Quapaw over here in Oklahoma.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘66 runs right through it.’

I nodded. ‘I’m going to Tulsa and then Oklahoma City.’

‘That’s a good ride on that 66.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Long one, though.’

‘They’re all long. It’s too big, this country.’

As well as fully grown chickens, Vernon was selling some guinea fowl and those wee yellow fluffy chicks. On another table there were various ornaments and bits and pieces, presumably from his house, nice items of Americana, a well-crafted wooden box, a ceramic buffalo with the ubiquitous ‘Made in China’ imprinted on its base, and an elephant-shaped incense holder. It all looked a bit desperate. A duck for five dollars seemed like a bargain – they lay eggs for ever – but of course I couldn’t buy one.

Further up the lane, another half-dozen stallholders were displaying their wares. The first I came to shouted, ‘Whoa, no, no, no! Get the camera away!’ He was a nice fella, but he was selling guns and knives and didn’t want to be filmed. I was happy to respect his wishes. I’m not one of those people who thinks everything about guns is bad. Not everyone who’s interested in them is a potential murderer or a militia man – just some of them. Many of them are simply into hunting and collecting knives. The working knife is a big thing in America.

The next stallholder was similarly reluctant to be filmed. ‘No problem whatsoever,’ I said. ‘I understand.’

So I moved on to another stall, where a large man called Olen Robbins, dressed all in black and wearing black shades was standing in front of a large black pick-up truck.