What is depicted in the above image no longer exists. What little I saw of it, when it existed, was in shambles. Pieces of cardboard and stripped copper wiring were strewn across the floor. Scrawls intersected with airbrushed art. Light ended on concrete. Colors converged.

It was a beautiful place for what it was. A post-industrial escape. A progressive-era Muir cathedral that was literally five minutes away from me. Despite the fact that it resided in the center of the homicide capitol of the west, it was my respite.

And it no longer exists.

Appropriately, PABCO roofing and manufacturing in Richmond, California is losing its last few bricks as I complete The World is Flat. Though I don’t necessarily subscribe to Friedman’s radically liberal (in an economic sense) tendencies, I believe the central premise of his thesis is correct. We are losing our manufacturing base. The time has come for us to choose between “open” and “shut.” My suggestion? Let’s pick open.

It may be fine and dandy when what we lose is an antiquated brick structure that made easily producible tar roof shingles — but it will be another matter entirely when we lose in the battle over minds, R&D, and high-tech production. There are countries that are already a sprint ahead of us in the energy realm. For starters, look into the host country for ITER and the sugar ethanol strides made by Brazil; also consider the efforts using offshore wind in Denmark.

Energy is just one example. For Egypt, the Ramadan tradition of fawanis is another, and Friedman tells us why:

“For centuries, small, low-wage workshops in Cairo’s older neighborhoods have manufactured these lanterns ? until the last few years. That was when plastic Chinese-made Ramadan lanterns, each with a battery-powered light instead of a candle, began flooding the market, crippling the traditional Egyptian workshops.”

Why the Globalization Hate?

To the untrained, careless peruser, the title of this entry may seemingly point an accusatory finger at globalization. That couldn’t be further from the truth. My own belief is that the world benefits from globalization, and I wish everyone would accept it. The requisite political stability and economic prosperity will soon follow. Getting there — though — means we have to replace the hard work of manufacturing roofing shingles (as we did in the factory above), with the even more ambitious task of competing globally in technology.

All of this requires a New Manhattan project, and a new program akin to the space race (more on this later). Thankfully one presidential candidate has laid out a clear plan for this. How we will get there is also up to us, but one sure route is by changing our culture, attitudes, openness to change, and adaptability in a “flat world,” as Friedman would call it. In order to do this, we’ll need to pull up our boot straps, roll up our sleeves, and start mucking.

Once upon a time Route 66 was a bustling roadway, bringing to life sights and places across the U.S.A. the likes of which had never been seen before, or even since.

So many motels, gas stations and tourist stops dotted the Mother Road that the fierce competition forced businesses to take extreme measures to attract visitors. Places like Cadillac Ranch and Jackrabbit (complete with giant Jackrabbit) popped up everywhere, clamoring for attention.

Eventually, however, Route 66 gave way to four-lane interstates. Cars filled with families soon sped past the motels and gas stations, and eventually most were abandoned.

A few great Route 66 sites still remain in business today, including the iconic Route 66 Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, Ariz. Featured on posters, postcards and even replicated in the Pixar movie Cars, the Wigwam still hosts travelers from around the world who arrive by leaving Interstate 40 and traveling on old Route 66 into Holbrook.

In some ways, the Wigwam Motel seems sadly out of place in this modern era of high-rise brick and glass hotels with tidy courtyards and elegant lobbies, but for a taste of what it might have been like to travel Route 66 in its heyday, the Wigwam is unbeatable.

The lobby is filled with Route 66 kitsch and Native American treasures. A family-owned business, the owner is often there to greet visitors and give an enthusiastic historical account of the Wigwams.

The Wigwams themselves are the real attraction though. Built in the style of a Native American Teepee, they even have faux entry flaps built into the concrete structure. At the top, supporting “poles” rise into the sky to complete the effect.

While the front doors appears to be small, as if you might have to crouch to enter the Wigwams, they really are standard size — it’s the Wigwams that are big.

Vintage cars are parked on the property, reminders of the time of the Mother Road. There’s even an old fire truck to check out. Some of the vintage cars aren’t on display though, they’re being driven by enthusiasts who are traveling along the original Route 66.

Despite surviving as an active business, the sad fate of Route 66 has touched the Wigwams. Peeling paint, a dirt parking lot and fading curtains peeking from the windows are reminders that in this age of fast freeways and large resorts even the once sparkling gems of bygone days no longer hold our collective fascination.

Short Version: Bearings is now officially open to submissions from outside writers. Articles/photo submissions will be paid. How this will turn a profit is beyond me, but you are nonetheless welcome to accept a $15 cash payment in exchange for telling (showing) us all about a fascinating place somewhere, anywhere.

Long Version: You might have noticed the (tacky?) new design. Fret not. It is a temporary measure to at least make sense of the jumbled ball of spaghetti that I’ve made of a relatively straightforward subject (Geography is straightforward – of course!)

But it also forebodes changes to the Bearings blog. Some may be good. Some you may even grumble at. It won’t break my heart if you unsubscribe from the RSS feed as a result, but you will be missing out, trust me.

Why? First, this blog will become more frequently updated. Second, the updates will become a collective project (i.e. the stories no longer emanate from one imperfect brain, but rather, from many imperfect brains). No longer do you have to reconcile your frustration with my disjointedness in diction; now you can try to make sense of many different talking heads (trust me: this is progress). In time, given the right contributions, and the right mix of smart, intellectually stimulating writers, I’m sure you will choose a favorite writer. And of course, I will cry in a corner if that storyteller is not me.

In the meantime, I hope you’ll provide a warm welcome to our incoming freshmen by offering your own opinions and insight on their posts. I’m not going to stop this blog until the corners of the Earth are covered, so contribute today if you have something that will put us all in awe.