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The Launching Pad, Route 66, Wilmington, IL (2026)

08/30/2026

That’s a lot of miles.

Even for a seasoned traveler.

This week is an extended Labor Day getaway that doesn’t make sense on paper — Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Missouri, back to Illinois. Then I get on a plane, fly to Sunset Beach, North Carolina to look at a house, and fly back home that same night. All in seven days.

My GPS has officially filed for vacation and I haven’t even left yet.

I’m already exhausted just trying to logistically make it all work. I packed 3 days of underwear for 7 days, so you know how good I am at math.

In the middle of that crazy loop, two things have me excited.

Friday night I get to break bread in Huntsville, Alabama with my favorite band, Sevendust. Just brothers in arms and music connecting our souls — that band saved me more than once.

Big love to LJ.

And then there are the two quiet things that mean more than all the miles combined.

One — I get to meet up with a friend, a new friend, while I’m in Tennessee. You know who you are. I will be looking forward to this one.

Two — I get to come home after the holiday and wrap up all my loose ends here in Illinois. Put a bow on some things I’ve been carrying for a while.

And the one given, the one thing that always, always brings a smile to my face no matter what state I’m in — is this page. And all the awesome people on it. You have no idea what that means to me.

I’m going to keep sharing the stories and history of the restaurant and the Giant while I’m out on the road.

Being a week out there should give me plenty of daily content.

State line signs, bad gas station coffee that tastes like it was made last Labor Day, truck stop sushi that glows in the dark — I’m not eating it, I’m just photographing it for evidence — and good sunsets that make you pull over just to look.

Here’s the wise part I’ve learned after a lifetime of driving these roads: The road doesn’t just take you places. It shows you what to leave behind, and what you take with you no matter where you go.

Two inspirational words will be sitting on my dashboard this whole trip: grateful and blessed.

Grateful for every mile, every friend, every person who ever stopped for a burger and stayed for a story.

Blessed that I get to write a next chapter at all.

So here’s the part where I need that tissue.

So you’re going to see less of me in Illinois in the coming months. More of me down in the mountains of Tennessee and hopefully on the beaches of Sunset Beach, if all goes as planned by God’s grace. That’s the next chapter. My legacy isn’t a building. It’s the memories we made in it.

I was born Midwest.

Raised Midwest.

My heart has always been Midwest.

Illinois made me. Wilmington made me. Romeoville made me. Lockport made me. Bolingbrook made me. Joliet made me. New Lenox made me — all towns I’ve either lived in or did business in.

That little restaurant on Route 66 and that 28-foot Giant made me.

You can move a guy to Tennessee. You can move a guy to North Carolina. But you can’t move the Midwest out of the guy.

At some point down South folks will finally realize I am from Chicago and why is that?

As much as I want to be all Midwest nice about it, ope, excuse me, lemme squeeze past ya... but you cut me off when we're 20 deep in line? Sorry, my inner Chicago comes out: "Ya jag-off!" 😆

My heart will always be parked right here, on 66, with the Giant waving at travelers on the river, and with all of you.

So if you see a photo this week of me tearing up at a rest stop in Kentucky — I’m not tearing up because I’m lost, and I’m not tearing up because I ate the truck stop sushi. I’m tearing up because I finally know exactly where I’m going.

Ride along with me this week if you want. I’ll post every day from somewhere different.

It’ll be funny. It’ll be a mess. It’ll be hopeful. And it’ll be from the heart.

That’s a promise.

🚀🚀🚀

08/29/2026

I was only going to do a little scrolling this morning on my phone and then…

Well some pictures don't just show up in your Facebook memories. They punch you right in the gut and bring you to your knees.

That was this morning for me.

I'm going to tell you the full story of my father Clint J. Garrett one day soon. And when I do, you're going to need a cup of coffee and a chair to sit down in. Because he's that kind of incredible man. That story will take some time.

But this morning a picture of him came across my feed and I just stopped. I thought to myself, I would have never even had the guts to try to purchase the Launching Pad if this man hadn't instilled that amazing, God-given confidence in me. He put that belief in me when I didn't have it in myself.

So I thought I'd share a few pictures that came up in my timeline today and give a shout out to my Dad, who truly is and always will be my hero.

The first one is him at the insurance agency office. He'd come in, get the paper, sit down to read it, and within 30 minutes he'd be sound asleep at his desk. One of his famous mini-naps. And speaking of that desk... you can't even see the desk in the picture for the mess. Papers everywhere. But I'm telling you, if you needed a document, he could put his hand on it in 15 seconds flat. Every time.

The second one is when we took him to see KISS. He was without a doubt the oldest person there. Suspenders and a tie on at a KISS concert. And there was a line of people wanting to buy him a beer and high-five him. He loved every second of it and so did they.

And then there's one of him with my late wife and the boys from many, many years ago at a car show. Back when life looked a lot different. Seeing the four of them together like that... well, that's the one that got me.

Sometimes a memory pops up and you just have to say thank you while you still can.

So thank you, Dad!

For the confidence, for the example, for everything.

Most importantly for loving me with everything you had.

I love you.

You are my hero.

🚀🚀🚀

08/28/2026

A Note From Me…

After many, many years, I've made a decision that wasn't easy, but it feels right.

Effective immediately, I am putting my personal page on pause. I will no longer be posting there. That page has now gone quiet.

To be completely honest with you, my Launching Pad page right here has filled my heart more than any social media page ever could. So all of my time and all of my efforts are going to be focused on this page exclusively from now on.

Somehow, Facebook has changed the algorithm and on personal pages you no longer see friends and family quite as much.

You have lots of commercial drops they put in on your page and I just was not really caring for it as much as the activity seemed to drop and drop.

I had about 5600 followers, 5000 friends, and over 1000 friend requests pending, but again there is very little interaction anymore because of the dynamic algorithms at Facebook, which is frustrating.

So for anybody who has seen that my personal page is no longer active effective immediately, just know this page is very active.

This page will continue to provide the history of the restaurant and the Giant along with life stories of positivity. As long as folks keep reading and enjoying this page, this page will continue to prosper.

Thanks for following along. When I re-established this page a year ago I had no idea what direction it was gonna go in and it's gone in a direction that has far exceeded my expectations. It's a great place to hang out, a safe place and a fun place.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for being here.

Thank you for sticking around and supporting this page.

You've made the right decision to stay, and I am putting my full heart and commitment into keeping this the best, most positive place on Facebook.

Love to you all,

Tully 🚀🚀🚀

08/28/2026

I would've given anything to keep her alive.

That's what was on my heart all day today.

I got up this morning and decided to finally do it.

Just a little piece of the Mother Road.

Just down to Pontiac, Illinois.

Just 60 miles of old Route 66.

It took me 8 hours.

Because every mile wanted to hug me.

It started at Mimi’s Cafe My favorite avocado vegetarian Panini and the best cup of coffee on planet Earth.

My favorite barista greets me with that smile and has my order started before I even say a word. I feel like royalty in there. Until she has to remind me to take my credit card out of the machine. Again. I've been chased down in the parking lot more times than I can count — "Hey Tully, look what you forgot again!"

On my way out I swung by to say hi to the big guy for a minute.

Gemini Giant

While I was there, a friend of mine was telling some travelers the history and walking back to her car. I jumped out and surprised her. She hollered for them to come back. "You have to meet him!" screaming out to the visitors.

They were from Barcelona, Spain. And man, they were so enthusiastic — talking, high-fiving, pictures, the whole thing. And just like that, I was back in the good old days. Greeting travelers, shaking hands, telling stories, making sure when they left, we would be one of their favorite stops on all of Route 66.

I missed that feeling more than I knew.

Next stop: Braidwood.

Polk-A-Dot Diner Empty because I was early, which gave me a chance to grab some quick pictures. What a great 1950s diner. Pure time capsule.

Then through Gardner to the two-cell jail.

Such a cool little building in such a perfect spot. Of course I took the obligatory selfie behind bars.

Gemini and I managed to break ourselves out, thank goodness, and stepped next door to the old Riviera — that converted trolley car — and did the full tourist snapshot routine. If you're gonna do it, do it right.

Then on to Dwight. The famous old gas station.

I didn't make it two feet inside before I hear "TULLY!" hollered across the room. Next thing I know I'm in the middle of a circle telling stories and reminiscing and taking pictures.

As I'm getting ready to leave, a tour bus pulls up. The tour operator jumps out, screams "TULLY!" and comes running. We hadn't seen each other in five years. It was like a mini high school reunion right there on Route 66.

Someone mentioned the 80s car museum down the street. I walked in to check it out and I swear I was back in high school. The curator, Dave, came out and we started talking cars, talking Launching Pad, talking life. Before I knew it an hour had flown by. You would have needed a crowbar to pry us apart. Another new friend.

And there just weren't enough hours in the day — five hours for three stops, just living life, shaking hands, loving the Mother Road. It don't get any better than that.

Then on to Pontiac. Which, in my opinion, is the gold standard for Route 66 towns.

I walked into the — the Route 66 Hall of Fame Museum — and immediately Rosie, 88 years old and has been greeting people there for 18 years, ran up and gave me the biggest and the warmest hug you could ever imagine. I'm still reeling in the love.

I brought in one of the last remaining bobbleheads, signed the box, and gifted it to the museum. I looked at her and said, "You are the heartbeat. People like you are what keeps Route 66 alive." Such a sincere and wonderful human being. Again — you would have needed a crowbar to pry us apart. So much love and admiration.

I slipped around the corner to grab something to eat at that farm-to-table place, Acres.

Before I even went in, this friendly-looking gentleman looks at me and says, "Hey, how are you? Where are you from?" I said, "I'm Tully Garrett — who are you?" He says, "I'm Bob, former mayor of Pontiac."

I told him I love his town and I've been promoting it since day one. When I mentioned the Launching Pad, we stood on that sidewalk for another 20 minutes of nothing but mutual admiration. Again — time to go buy another crowbar in Wilmington at Whitmore Ace Hardware. You got to prior apart.

My lunch was awesome. The food was amazing. I’ll be back. Farm to table food.

Then I went to one of my favorite stops — . Pontiac Oakland Car MUSEUM . Cars, cars, cars.

On the way out I slipped through the back alley to try to get a picture by that famous Route 66 Mural on the back of the museum wall. Unfortunately it’s completely fenced off for construction. I hit a connection and somebody let me in for a quick picture — I won't mention that person's name, but THANK YOU so much!

Heading back to my truck in that same alley, I saw this very cool, interesting person passing by. Of course I had to stop and say hi. Turns out she had been living in that community for many, many years and was actually in the restaurant working when I was in there for lunch.

Another connection. Another amazing life story. We must have talked 20 or 30 minutes — time just flew. And another new follower for the page. Another new friend.

Heading home I jumped on I-55 instead of 66 so I could slide through Wilmington real quick to the Scoop ice cream place. Because today deserved a celebration day. I grabbed a scoop of chocolate chip mint to cap off an absolutely spiritually, religiously, inspirationally wonderful day — and that was just a few short miles of Route 66.

I'm telling you, if they had a position for Mayor of Route 66, or Ambassador of the Mother Road, I'd be filling out my name and stuffing the ballot box. I just love this road so much. The stories and the people.

I wish you ALL were along with me today.

Hopefully I told it good enough that you felt like you were in the car with me — eating lunch with me, and hugging and shaking hands and sharing stories of life, love, and all things good.

More miles to come.

Thanks for riding along.

One more thing before I sign off —

Beginning of this year I had this big dream in my head. Buy a Prevost tour bus and do 100 days on the road. Live on Route 66. Really live it.

For a lot of reasons, it just didn't pan out this year. Bills, timing, life — you know how it goes. But I'm not discounting that thought. Not one bit. That bus is still parked in my prayers.

Because here's what today taught me:

I did 60 miles in 8 hours today. Three towns took me five hours because I couldn't stop talking, hugging, laughing, crying.

Chicago to Santa Monica is 2,400 miles.
At my pace today, 100 days wouldn't even get me out of Texas. I'd need to pack extra underwear and tell my mailman to just forward everything to Arizona.

At 7.5 miles an hour, I'd be 100 years old pulling into the Santa Monica Pier and still asking for directions.

So I can tell you one thing for certain — when I finally do the whole Route 66 the proper way, the Tully way, I'm gonna need a hell of a lot more than 100 days to live it. To love it. To breathe it.

If I can't keep my old diner alive with a grill and an open sign anymore, then I'm going to keep her alive the only way I can right now.

Through little stories and memories like this.

And I'm going to continue to do that. For as long as you'll ride with me.

If you ever ate at the Launching Pad, if you ever stood under the Giant with me, if you ever shook my hand on that parking lot — you were family. You still are.

The Launching Pad is still alive in people’s hearts and memories, and I found that out firsthand today. And I will do everything within my power to continue to perpetuate the amazing memories and heartfelt stories.

I Am Tully

08/27/2026

I woke up this morning and all I wanted was a cup of coffee.

That's it. Just coffee.

Then I looked outside and it feels like a fall day here in Chicagoland. That crisp, blue, cool sky that makes you want to just... go.

So I jumped in the truck.

I'm headed down to Pontiac today. If you know Route 66, you know Pontiac is the gold standard for what a Route 66 town should be.

Don't get me wrong, Wilmington is RIGHT there with it. Always will be. But these days my Route 66 always starts in Wilmington at one place.

Mimi's Cafe- 209 N. Water St, Wilmington, Il.

I'm not going to name names to keep things nice and safe, but if you know, you know her. She's beyond phenomenal. I walk in, she already knows what I want. Always smiling, always has something positive to say. And when she gets a free second, which is almost never, we get to talk for a minute. Just a fantastic human being.

So I decided my little mini Route 66 excursion wasn't going to start at Navy Pier. It wasn't going to start at Lou Mitchell's.

It was going to start at Mimi's.

I told her, "I'm heading out on a little voyage today, can I get a picture with you for good luck?" So for the sake of the story, we'll just call her Barista Mimi.

And then there's the breakfast. That vegetable avocado panini. And that coffee. It is hands down the most incredible breakfast I've ever had. That's why a sane man will drive 60 miles round trip just for a cup of coffee and a sandwich once in a while. Worth every mile.

So right now it's 9:15 AM. I'm pulled into South Island Park in Wilmington.

I brought a friend. My little Gemini Giant bobblehead. Co-pilot for the day.

First stop after Mimi's - you know where I'm at.

Big guy. Little guy.

And man, it's still surreal to stand here.

From 2017 to 2024 I owned the Launching Pad. I had the keys to this big green guy. It was the wildest, hardest, most beautiful chapter of my life. And then life did what life does. It knocked me down so hard I honestly didn't think I'd ever get back up.

But dammit... I did.

I pulled myself up. I'm here. I'm breathing this cool air, drinking great coffee, staring at my old friend.

And I'm living the best life I can. One mile, one song, one cup of coffee at a time.

So yeah, I'm going to sit here for a minute with big guy and little guy, and then I'm going to point this gas-guzzling truck south.

Radio is on volume 11. It's all 80's. I know I'm getting 14 miles per gallon today and I could not care less. This is historic Route 66.

I'm gonna go turn Pontiac, Illinois upside down and have the time of my life.

Jump on in. Come along with me. I'll post the whole trip later tonight for anyone who hasn't done it, or is planning to.

Let's ride.

I Am Tully 🚀🚀🚀

08/27/2026

Nothing new, simply a repost for the new folks who haven't seen this.

Somewhere out on the Mother Road, between a fiberglass Giant holding a rocket and a diner selling pie, somebody decided a fire hydrant needed a promotion.

Wherever this is at and whoever painted this - I owe you a beer or an ice cold soda, either one.

Simply brilliant!

They took a plain green hydrant and turned it into Mission Control. White bucket helmet, serious astronaut stare, and across both arms in perfect hot-rod script: "Launching Pad."

This is what happens in the heartbeat of Route 66.

NASA has Cape Canaveral, we have the front yard launch facility.

Lowest budget space program in history, but highest success rate.

Every dog in a 3-block radius has already done a flyby inspection.

Houston, we have hydration.

Cheers!

I Am Tully 🚀🚀🚀

08/26/2026

I was just going to wash my truck today…

We see a thousand cars a day. Changing lanes. Stopping. Starting. Flying past us.

And everybody's face tells a story. Blank stares. Going someplace they don't want to be, or they just have too much on their plate to say hello.

So I pull my truck into the car wash today. You know I have that $39.95 monthly subscription, so I HAVE to use it every single day even if it doesn't need it. I feel like I'm winning. Some people call it cheap and frugal. I call it... well, let's move on. 😉

My truck is coming out of the tunnel, the blowers are blowing most of the water off, but never all of it. So I pull around to the side where everyone is towel-drying and vacuuming.

And of course, I see it. A triple-black C5 Corvette. So I'm definitely pulling up next to THAT.

There's a gentleman drying it off. I get out and say, "That's a beautiful C5."

He turns around and smiles, "Yeah, I bought it brand new. Only has 25,000 miles on it."

I joked, "Man I love black, but it gets dirty so easy. I don't know if I could own a black car."

He laughs and says, "In the 60 seconds we've been talking, it went from clean to dirty again. I almost have to run it through again. But for that 30 seconds? It looks beautiful."

Triple black. He wasn't wrong.

I don't know what it is, but we just started talking and I learned a lot about Mike. And I don't say this next part to sound snobbish or condescending at all, because I'm not. But since I was a young kid, this has happened to me - when I start talking to people, they seem to gravitate and just open up. I don't know what it is or why it is, but it is. It's always been that way.

He's lived in this area for many, many years. Been retired for just as many. Just bought a new place a couple towns over.

We talked about everything from A to Z. Retirement. High taxes. How to really get a black car clean. Life.

As we're wrapping up, I say, "Mike, how old are you?"

He looks at me and says, "I'm 80 years old!"

If you look at Mike in this picture, he does not look like he's 80. He looks much younger.

And that's the moment I got a lump in my own throat.

Here's a man, 80 years old, who bought his dream car brand new and kept it perfect for over 20 years. Only 25,000 miles. Not because he didn't love to drive it - but because he learned something most of us are still trying to learn. It's not about how many miles you put on. It's about making the miles you DO put on count.

And there he was, on a random Tuesday afternoon, making it shine just for 30 seconds of beautiful. Still driving. Still polishing. Still showing up.

I told him, "Mike, you give me hope."

He chuckles and says, "I come here a lot. It's a good place to clean the car and there's a lot of pretty girls here too."

Well, I had to agree with him there. You'd think you'd see the pretty girls in church, but they seem to be coming to the car wash. I had to keep us both on track every once in a while. 😃

As we were saying goodbye, I told him I have a page where I share stories about the old Launching Pad and the Gemini Giant. Immediately he knew who the Giant was. Most people do.

He says, "Now that I know you, I can come down and get a free meal!"

I said, "Mike, that's not gonna happen. I can't even get a free meal there anymore. It's no longer in operation. But man, when it WAS... if you loved hot dogs and Italian beefs, you were a regular."

We both agreed on one thing - life moves SO fast.

And we gotta remember, all those cars flying by us, and pardon my Southside slang, even the jag-offs tailgating us... we all have a life. We all have a story we're living.

We're all just struggling to get to where we think we need to be.

What we need to do is stop and talk to our brothers and sisters every once in a while. Let them know we're in the same race. And it doesn't matter who drives the bus, as long as we all get to the picnic together.

Nope, I'm not a preacher, though I did study to be a priest.

Nope, I'm not a wordsmith - my spelling and punctuation are atrocious.

I'm just a guy who knows we're all on borrowed time.

We know Who is coming to save us in the end... but while we're on this spinning rock in outer space, we need each other. We have to save each other.

And you never know when you're going to need that hand, that extension, that olive branch to pull you up off the ground. From a brother or sister you didn't know you had yesterday, to the one you have today.

Just by saying, "Hi. How's your day going?"

I was just going to wash my truck.

Turns out, my heart needed the rinse more than my truck did.

Tully

08/26/2026

I only thought I was organizing my closet this morning...

Most men don't have an organized closet. If that's my only claim to fame, carve it on my tombstone. I'll take it.

But open mine and it's not basic safe colors and polo shirts. It looks like Elvis and Johnny Cash had a yard sale. Snakeskin, sparkle, leopard print, a red double-breasted blazer that should come with a fire extinguisher.

So I'm standing there alone asking myself — where the hell did I get this bug?

Started digging through old pictures. And there he is. My grandfather. Hat cocked perfect, suit pressed, tie knotted like he was about to close a deal on the sidewalk. That man could make waiting for the bus look like Paris Fashion Week. Maybe this thing IS genetic.

Then there's me.

Baby picture, one little curl sticking straight up like an antenna tuned directly to the fashion channel.

Kindergarten, blue sport coat, pocket square, arms crossed like a tiny CEO holding a business meeting at nap time.

Grade school, tan double-breasted with the big white buttons, standing in the front yard like I'm waiting on a limo, not the school bus.

Then prom. Black tux, bow tie, white rose the size of a cabbage, and a mullet that had its own fan club. Front was business, back was a full world tour. Still thought I was ALL that.

I have never once in my life gotten dressed and asked, "Are people gonna like this?"

I have always looked in the mirror and said, "Tully, dress to the nines, brother."

It's amazing what conversations you have with yourself when there's nobody else in the room to stop you.

I wish I'd been around to see all the cool stuff my grandpa wore. And I'm kind of glad he's NOT around to see what I'm wearing now, because if he saw me in leopard print boots at church and a sparkly blazer that catches every light in Memphis, he'd have to sit down.

But I think he'd get it.

My grandpa wore a suit to go buy groceries. I wear snakeskin boots to buy milk. Different century, same code: If you're gonna show up, SHOW UP.

I started the morning thinking I was just organizing clothes. Turns out I was looking at a family heirloom I didn't know I inherited — the need to dress like you mean it.

Life's too short for safe colors.

Wear the thing. Be the thing. Leave a little sparkle on the floor when leave…

Tully

08/25/2026

I loved Dolly Parton so much.

So, after hearing about her passing today I drove by a tree and want the share this story with you - it brings things full circle for me.

Life is precious, and it is fleeting.

Embrace it for all that has.

RIP JOLENE - Dolly ❤️

The One That Still Stands…

I have passed you a hundred times.

Around the curve,
just past where they rest,
you are always the first thing I see.

Every time I whispered, "Tomorrow, I'll take your picture."

Today, tomorrow finally came.
Because I knew you had a story to tell.

You have no leaves left to give.
No green. No shade.

Your branches are bare, dry, and gnarled
reaching for the same blue sky that watched you grow.

Some would look and see the end.

I look and see majesty.

I see a life that stood through every storm.

Every blistering summer, every hard winter.

A life that held on, and holds on still.

You did not fall.

You are standing proud, speaking for Mother Earth herself:

I was here.
Here I am.
I am proud to belong to her.

Thank you for the lesson today —

That we don't have to be full and green to be beautiful.

We just have to keep standing.

If you needed to hear that today, this is for you.

Two views of the same tree.

Same Heartbeat -

I am finding meaning in quiet places.

Tully

The Launching Pad

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