One story tells how the Ozark was once owned by a retired cop who created a speed-trap town here with himself as Justice of the Peace. That financial savvy has not been lost to today's route 66 survivors. Business of all types cling to the most tenuous links to this old stretch of highway. Along with the expected motels and truck stops, we find convenience stores, car dealerships, and even a consignment shop that has named itself after the mother road. In Cuba, we stop at the Wagon Wheel Motel .
Green chairs line many of the ozark stone cottages under the shadow of local water tower.
Tiny, but immaculate rooms entice us to stay. In front of the office guarded by concrete poodles, fake elves compete with ducks bedecked in colorful bonnets for our attention. Nearby, a young maple tree grows where an elm used to stand, giving shade to a stone squirrel. The owners celebrate the renewed appreciation for the highway that passes their motel, showing me the gifts that some of their international visitors have given them. She couldn't talk.