This shadowbox created by Dad commemorates some of the highlights of our trip in tacky postcards, Zuni fetishes, and other iconic American west kitsch.

Our Route 66 trip in 2006 was painstakingly planned and entirely conceived by your father. This American road adventure had burgeoned into a romantic ideal for him of mid-century automobiles and motor courts, neon signs, and wide open spaces sliced by roiling highways, punctuated with lonesome telephone poles and bordered by the black scars of train tracks. Route 66 did not disappoint.

Starting in Amarillo, Texas, roughly the halfway point of the 2,451 mile road, we drove around 1,400 miles (with excursions to Santa Fe and the Grand Canyon), sticking as much as possible on the original Mother Road, through the idea of America to reach Santa Monica and the Pacific Ocean after almost two weeks.

Adrian and Matthew were good travel companions…scratch that. Matthew was a wonderful travel companion, who never complained and happily pronked about every time we pulled the car over for another excursion. He and Adrian were good travel buddies until they lost their mind somewhere in the Mojave Desert listening to Tom Waits (or was it Steely Dan?) on the car stereo—the stoic Styrofoam cooler wedged between them paid the price.

Dad was thrilled to be able to do a mini-reprise of some of his favorite Route 66 haunts with Dani later on during their trip from Olympia, Washington to Miami.

The photos and the souvenirs are interwoven with our memories and preserve our collective story of the trip. But Route 66 meant something different for each of us, and I suspect it changed us in some indelible way that hums just beneath the surface of our skins.

Here is a gallery of the shadowbox: