at the edge of the Pacific, near the photo booths and the
pretzel stand and a man molding busts of tourists out of clay,
spins a Ferris wheel that draws electricity from the sun. A few
hundred feet away, a sign marks the end of old Route 66. The
Santa Monica Pier, where green energy meets automotive his-
tory, seemed like the perfect spot to kick off a cross-country
road trip in electric cars.
Route 66, one of America’s first all-weather highways, began
in Chicago. From the 1930s until it was rendered obsolete by
interstates, it funneled millions of Midwestern migrants past
motor lodges and trinket shops toward the sparkling shores
of California. It helped reshape that state from a rural para-
dise to a series of sprawling cities. Along the way it came to
symbolize so much: the transformational power of cars, the
freedom of the open road, the magic of combining the two in
a road trip. Today Americana-hungry travelers, after rolling
through more than 2,200 miles of old 66, line up at a wooden
hut on the Santa Monica Pier for signed certificates.
The pier is also a good place to reflect on the world we’ve
created, in part through our love affair with the internal com-
bustion engine. To the east lies Los Angeles with its seven
million gas-guzzlers, which emit more carbon dioxide than
a dozen states. To the south there’s Venice Beach, which in
the 1940s was crowded with oil derricks—and where in recent
years starving sea lions washed ashore, victims of ocean heat
waves worsened by climate change. To the west and north
lie Malibu and the hills above it, where the Woolsey fire
ON A WEATHERED PROMENADE50 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC