The Mother Road.
17 Sep 1997 08:20:15 -0700
RV Park; McLean, Texas :: 17 SEP 97
John Steinbeck devoted
a full chapter in "The
Grapes of Wrath" to Highway 66. Five words of that chapter-three words,
really-have captured everyone's imagination. Three words.
The Mother Road.
"66 is the mother road," wrote Steinbeck.
The Mother Road is all nurture and fertility, warmth and love.
She wraps us in her arms, pulls us to her bosom, wipes away the fears
along with the tears. And to this image we steadfastly cling with the
surprising grip of a baby's tiny hand. Book titles, maps and souvenir
knick-knacks. "The Mother Road" battles "The Main Street of America" for
billing as official nickname.
But Steinbeck didn't
stop with those three words, "the mother road." He had something else
to add. Still poetic, but this time provocative. The full sentence reads,
66 is the mother road, the road of flight.
The Road of Flight.
This is the image of 66 Steinbeck
depicts in chapter 12 of "The Grapes of Wrath." The road of flight. The
only avenue of escape and the primary obstacle to salvation. They flee
not only the dust bowl but every flat tire and breakdown, every shyster
along the road bent on exploiting them-they are fleeing every mile put
behind them. They flee until they run out of road or until they run out
of money; they flee until there's no where or no how left to flee.
That other image, the oft-quoted one, the mother road, this
image appears fleetingly at the close of the chapter. It's the courage,
the terrible faith. The mother's courage, the mother's terrible faith.
The same courage that lets Ma bear up and hide her lethal tar'dness, the
same faith that has her brow-beatin' Pa for even thinking of turning away
a hungry mouth just because food is scarce.
66 is just a highway. It has no faith,
no courage. It's not your mother. Traversing 66 in an overloaded jalopy
on dwindling supplies-66 was a test. In a more recent sense, the mother
of all tests. If you can get over those mountains and across that desert
with your humanity intact, if you can run the gauntlet of con-men and
misfortune with respect for others and a sense of doing what's right instead
of what's necessary (or, a decade later, what's fun) then you have Kerouac's
dearly sought pearl in your hands. You didn't find it. It was not offered
up as a prize for conquering two thousand miles of highway. You possessed
it all along.
~~~ Responses Sought ~~~
Al steered with one hand and put the other on the vibrating
gear-shift lever. He had difficulty in speaking. His mouth formed the
words silently before he said them aloud. "Ma-" She looked slowly around
at him, her head swaying a little with the car's motion. "Ma, you scared
a goin'? You scared a goin' to a new place?"
Her eyes grew thoughtful and soft. "A little," she said. "Only
it ain't like scared so much. I'm jus' a settin' here waitin'. When
somepin happens that I got to do somepin-I'll do it."
"Ain't you thinkin' what's it gonna be like when we get there?
Ain't you scared it won't be nice like we thought?"
"No," she said quickly. "No, I ain't. You can't do that. I
can't do that. It's too much livin' too many lives. Up ahead a thousand
lives we might live, but when it comes, it'll on'y be one. If I go ahead
on all of 'em, it's too much. You got to live ahead 'cause you're so
young, but- it's jus' the road goin' by for me. An' it's jus' how soon
they gonna wanta eat some more pork bones." Her face tight- ened. "That's
all I can do. I can't do no more. All the rest'd get upset if I done
any more'n that. They all depen' on me jus' thinkin' about that."