Recreating Magic!—A Letter from Florian
Next year, Route 66 is celebrating its centennial. The world’s most famous highway is turning 100. In anticipation of this milestone, Marisa, Caleb, and I set out last year to follow the iconic road’s 2,448 miles from Chicago to Santa Monica.
I’m proud of the level of planning that went into this trip amidst a crazy production schedule. Starting with the May/June '25 issue, you can read a series of articles about our journey, experiences, and lessons learned, so you are ready to hit the Mother Road in 2026.
For me, the trip had an added dimension. In 1995, my parents shipped their Kawasaki Vulcan 88 to Chicago from Austria to experience Route 66. I found a treasure trove of photos and negatives in a dusty old shoebox in the far corner of the attic.
Just kidding, they were neatly organized in a white folder in our office. What kind of operation do you think we’re running here? For the sake of a good story, though, imagine me unearthing the photographic evidence on a blustery February day. As I’m looking through photos of my parents a couple of years younger than I am today, I thought, “How cool would it be to recreate all of these photos?”
That was also a jest. It was Marisa’s idea.
Armed with cases full of camera gear, three sparkling Harley-Davidsons, and a handful of vintage photographs, we set out not just to chronicle Route 66, but also find the same spots my parents thought worthy. Remember, in the ‘90s you had to think twice before hitting the shutter button and filling up your film roll.
Some places were easy to find, thanks to the tireless efforts of the businesses dedicated to preserving Route 66. Some places required more detective work. The soda shop was a challenge, but we found it. I’m not going to spoil the story here, though. We even left an easter egg there, so maybe you should ride out to find the location and the surprise.
After a long day in Arizona, we were about to descend a little hill into Seligman. Off to the left, I saw the outline of a mountain, railroad tracks, and a memorable bend in the road. I found another spot where my dad hit the brakes 30 years ago. The only difference was the color of the road—it was black instead of red.
While we’re getting ready for the shot, I looked down and saw that on the edge of the road, the old red asphalt visible in my dad’s photo was still there, just covered up by the new. I got a little emotional. Time adds layers, but if you look close enough, the past is still there.
If you haven’t planned your Route 66 trip yet, let this be your sign. How cool would it be if, in 30 years, our children saw our photos and decided to hit the open road?
Safe travels,
Florian Neuhauser
Publisher