In a year when you couldn't walk a couple of steps without getting slugged in the face with some Route 66 folklore, I got to wondering about all those other highways that crisscross Illinois.
After all, Route 66 wasn't the only highway celebrating its 100th birthday in 2026. U.S. Route 24 was born that same year, but as far as I could tell, nobody had bothered to bake it a cake.
And just off that very highway in Chatsworth sits an old Shell station that caught my attention.
I was pulling in just as Dennis “Sport” Hornickel was pulling out. He didn't know me from Adam, and I'm sure he had somewhere else to be. But as I've found so often in these little towns, folks still make time for a stranger. Dennis put his Ford back in park, got out and took the time to show me around.
And I couldn't have asked for a better fellow to run into.
Out front stood two old red and yellow Shell pumps, the kind that once had an attendant coming out to fill your tank, check your oil and maybe wash your windshield while you sat behind the steering wheel. Above them were a pair of old porcelain lights, and behind them stood a white building that looked like it had been waiting for somebody to pull in for the last seventy years.
The Shell station has roots going back to 1926, the very same year Route 24 received its designation. The original building was eventually torn down, and the present station was built around 1950. Over the years it went by a few different names, depending on who was running the place. Smitty's, Bob's Shell and Tim's Shell were among them.
Of course, they don't sell gasoline here anymore. These days the place has been fixed up and filled with enough old service station memorabilia to keep a fellow occupied for an entire afternoon.
Inside were shelves lined with old Shell oil cans, antifreeze tins, license plates, and the assorted clutter of a bygone era. There was an old cash register that looked heavy enough to require two men to carry it, a cigarette machine with a few packs still stacked inside, wooden soda crates filled with glass bottles, and a couple of bright yellow Shell chairs that were almost too nice to sit on.
There was even an old telephone that took nickels to make a call. I suppose if you were calling somebody long distance, you'd better have brought along a pocketful of change.
What I liked most, though, wasn't necessarily all the old stuff. It was that somebody had taken the time to save it. Too many of these old filling stations have been torn down or left to fall apart. This one got another chance.
I thanked Dennis for taking the time to show me around. He had places to go, and I had a few more miles I wanted to put behind me before heading home.
I suppose Route 24 might not get a birthday cake this year, but thanks to folks like Dennis, there's still plenty along that old highway worth celebrating.
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