I'm from England, My first car ride in The USA in 1963 was down Route 1 from Logan Airport to Route 128 at night. I was 8 years old and knew right then and there that I was going to love America.

Now the ships gone too☹️

Lived in Saugus 1984 to 2003...just in those 19 years...we lost Red Coach Grill, Hilltop, Valles Steakhouse, Full of Bull, Augustine's, Russo's candy house, the Ship, Town Line House, Rt.1 Golf...the old Rt.1 is just a memory...Sad

'Weylu's' at the top of the cliff deserves an honorable mention. It was very much part of the Rt 1 experience.

Well said.I was born in chelsea ,and places along rt1 as well as revere beach is where I spent a lot of my free time. Most of the places are gone ,but as I grow older and have less future to look ahead I can drift back more often and remember the great times I had

Awesome video

Very nicely made Scott, THAT'S filmmaking 🙌

Grew up in Lynn. My father worked during my youth at The Arcade Bizarre and The GEM store ( one of the first ever "Club Membership " discount stores as a second job to his full time job at Stop & Shop. WE went to the Kiddie Ranch small amusement Park along Route 1 a lot also. SO yes Route 1 certainly has many fond memories . Oh what about Adventure Car Hop ? I moved to Texas in 1976 and every time I do get back I drive Route 1 and yes saddened that most of all my childhood memories are now gone.

My dad would take my mom and me for Sunday dinner,which could be anywhere from the old Vallee´s steakhouse to The Ship in Lynnfield to Augustines(which I just dont remember was located in Lynnfield or Saugus)> Not to mention the Hilltop Steak House. All gone...........

Well said. Thank u

Route 1 use to be a thriving, mystique and fun place. Now, it is boring and its mystique is dying slowly with condos popping up.

Great memories will always miss my Hilltop lobster pie & the best salad❤️

Memories Several times a year my whole family,​ grandparents ​and all, climbed into two cars and made the drive up Route 1 to the​ ​​​​Hilltop ​Steakhouse.​ The world whizzed by us​ ​​​from the back seat of my grandfather’s big, black Chrysler Imperial​. ​Large garish road signs of all colors and shapes sprung up from the ground reaching toward the sky. Someday, anthropologist​s​ will ​have a field day discussing this​ terrain, but for a 12​-​year​-​old ​in the late '60s,​ it all blended into one colorful mosaic of place. I don’t remember ​my family ​eating anyplace ​else but​ Hilltop​, ​except ​perhaps ​​​Valle’s Steak House if Hilltop ​looked too crowded. Hilltop was famous for what was planted on its lengthy strip of green grass; dozens of life-sized plastic cows and a 68 foot neon cactus sign that was straight out of Las Vegas…. No matter how fast one’s car barreled down the highway, you couldn’t miss that sign, and I bet that many a child had pet names for the plastic cows. Arriving at the event called Hilltop, we all piled out of our cars, received our hand written number from the hostess, and waited with hundreds of other suburbanite families in a long covered porch a stone’s throw from the highway. To relieve our boredom, my brother and I chased each other amongst the crowd and the adults talked adult stuff. It seemed like forever before our number came up, but it eventually did. We then were lead to and seated in a cavernous western​-​motif​-​of​-​a​-​room named “Kansas City.” As we ​settled into our high back​, vinyl-upholstered​ booth, a ​spunky middle-aged waitress would quickly approach our table ​to take our orders. Dad, the alpha​-​male​,​ made small​-​talk with the waitress​-​of​-​the​-​day​.​ I always felt so proud that he (and vicariously, ​we) made that connection, however momentary it was. ​ ​ All around us, loud chatter echoed through the ​​vast wood​-​paneled room. We witnessed​ dozens of waitresses scurry​ing​ about, gracefully balancing large silver trays covered with a dozen steak​-​plated meals. ​Hilltop was suburban theater at its best.​ ​We weren't ​just chewing on a good steak.​ We were feeding​​ together in this cavern-of-a-room with 500 other ​grazers.

Sounds like the same music that played in Midnight Cowboy

Rte 1, we hardly knew ye.

Yeah man, this is it. Some might have called it kitsch, but in reality, it was a kind of eccentric individuality that was exciting -- A far cry from the cookie-cutter stores from today. Look at the sense of loss as the landmarks recede -- the cactus, the Ship, the 'thar she blows!' of Yoken's, Diamond Head. What will replace the emptying big box stores that sears the mind that way? Surely not the seasonal Hallowe'en Town.

Isn’t that your goal Barr Foundation.