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Under normal conditions, the script above the large window and front door would seem out of place. A quick gander showed that it looked like any other sign flush against the faade of an ordinary looking building.

But the roadway that the storefront sign faced, located in Texas' dry Panhandle region, was no ordinary highway. And the sign's lettering---"Hardcore Motorcycle Ministry"--- conveyed no ordinary message. Inside the motorcycle shop next door, the burly, bearded biker-type shop owner described the ministry as a place where motorcyclists passing through can find spiritual comfort as they wind their way through the arid countryside heading for who knows where.

Much has been written about U.S. Route 66---The Mother Road as it's often called. Amarillo, Texas is one of the hundreds of towns, both big and small, located along this "Main Street of America" that stretches from Chicago to Los Angeles.

To many, Route 66 is an apparition. While it's really only a highway made up of concrete, striping and green and white signage, there's something mysterious and even haunting about it. It's gone as the major roadway it once was, but not forgotten.

It took federal work crews 10 years to construct the 2,448 miles of Route 66 beginning in 1926. For more than 30 years it was the major east-west route that linked America's East and West meandering its way around and through cornfields, deserts and mountain ranges. Gas stations, clothing stores, restaurants, hotels and kiddy parks thrived along the highway as Americans took to traveling by automobile particularly after World War II. During the Dust Bowl era of the 1930s, Route 66 was the major connection for migrants desperatelylooking for work in California.

But like any good thing, once the country's interstate highway system took hold in the late 1950s, Route 66's time to glow had dimmed to a mere flicker. Left were shopkeepers and ma and pa hotel operators with few customers.

But like many good things such as baseball or summer days at the beach, feelings of nostalgia often creep in to fill a void. That's what's been happening with Route 66.

Business and property owners along a mile-long stretch of Route 66 in Amarillo, like the Hardcore Motorcycle Ministry's bearded biker, are working to tap into peoples' longing for the good old days as well as their natural curiosity. New businesses have gradually sprung up along the famed ribbon of highway to blend in with places that have managed to survive for the last 50 or 60 years. There's Moose's 6th Street Bar & Grill, San Jacinto Antiques, Amarillo's Route 66 Store, Toot N Totem, and Alley Katz, a small retail store. An anchor of the strip is the Golden Light CafŽ, a watering hole where cowboy-hatted Texans can belly up to the bar for a beer or have the cook rustle up a sandwich or burger. The Golden Light is on the National Register of Historic Places having been established in 1946. There's nothing fancy about the place with its cement floor and Texas license plates hanging on the walls. But it's charming, unassuming and a nice, friendly place to visit. For browsers, antique stores like San Jacinto quickly bring back memories. Its shelves and floor displays are full of memorable items such as 8-track tapes, a "Rocket Bike' on sale for $150, and dozens of old, dusty 45 records. Make no mistake about it, you won't find glittering flashing neon signs or $9.95 steak dinners along Route 66 in Amarillo. What you will discover is a connection to the country's and Texas' past and an effort by the community to preserve a local treasure.

And if the spirit moves you, there's always the Hardcore Motorcycle Ministry.