A favorite way to spend Sunday afternoon in the late 1920s was to drive over to see the progress the highway department was making in pouring “the slab.” That slab was to be named Highway 40. It straightened out curving gravel roads that stretched across the state. Gravel was OK for the popular Model T Ford, but in 1928, several entirely different autos made their appearance. Some of our neighbors said, “I’d rather have a good gravel road any day, instead of this slab.” The two lanes of concrete took too much farmland out of production and encouraged fast driving.

We found it good Sunday entertainment to drive over to see the big machine quietly resting up for another week of spitting out endless concrete. During the week, concrete oozed out of its wide “mouth” much like a baby monster might reject Pablum. But slowly it inched along toward Kansas City and left a smooth gray ribbon of concrete in its path. However, not everyone wanted a concrete highway.

Taxpayers from both town and country fought the idea of paving roads. Farmers used teams and wagons to haul products to market. Cattle, sheep and hogs were often driven to market or a shipping point. Mail-order catalogs could be found in every home the new Missouri and Kansas Railroad had designated “flag stops” about every five to 10 miles to pick up and deliver mail, passengers and farm products. Who needed paved roads? Surprisingly, it was bicyclists who lobbied for, and got them.

City streets were rough enough to damage the big, high-wheel cycles of the 19th century. Country gravel roads helped give this popular machine the name “Boneshaker.” Cycling was spreading like wild fire. It was fun, healthful and provided rapid transportation. Almost every able-bodied man rode a bike to work or for pleasure.

Even doctors often made their rounds by bicycle in good weather. It was too time consuming to go by horse and buggy in emergencies or when they called on patients in several small towns in one day. On Sundays, the men were out on their “wheels” racing, touring, etc. Women didn’t like being left at home so they designed costumes appropriate for bicycling. They liked the new freedom of shorter skirts or bloomers; the long shirts with many petticoats were doomed.

Bicyclists held events in cities where the streets were “paved” with wooden blocks pounded into the earth, end wise. Of course this was not a smooth surface when the wooden blocks began to rot! The League of American Wheel men and other cycle groups finally refused to hold their meetings in cities with unpaved streets. The bouncing was hard on their bodies and on their beloved high-wheel machines. Gradually cyclists brought pressure that resulted in paved streets and roads.

The cross-state slab that attracted us in 1929 followed near the earliest Missouri cross-state routes. Two Boone brothers were among the first to pick a good route to a salt “lick” in Howard County. By 1823, this trail went through Columbia on Broadway. Later the trail from the east was called Cedar Creek Gravel Road and then Fulton Gravel. When it was improved and paved in the 1960s, its name became Route WW.

Today when I pass the intersection of Route Z and I-70 I recall those machines and the fact that we never dreamed there was that much concrete in the whole world!