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Along Interstate 80 near Elm Creek, Monte Hollertz watched traffic from a hay field. He’d parked a restored 1955 Chevy nearby, and as highway traffic passed, he noticed how many heads turned to look at the car.

He saw a lot of rubbernecking that day, so he bought the land. Thirty years ago, the property became his home, farm and museum – Chevyland U.S.A., which displays his personal collection of antique Chevrolet cars.

A scholar studying the effects of automobile travel on Nebraska would probably talk about the growth of suburbs, the demise of small towns or their transformation into bedroom communities, or the growth of tourism into the state’s third largest industry. These are all worthy subjects. But automobiles also have a strange hold on our emotions, as Hollertz understands, and so do memories of the journeys we make in them. When you talk with someone like Hollertz, or witness the evolution of travel at the Great Platte River Road Archway Monument, or read about Nebraska’s earliest auto adventures, or take to the back roads yourself, what sticks with you most are stories of the Great American Road Trip, Nebraska-style.

Hollertz is not a wealthy collector. He’s a farmer who likes old cars. He began collecting in 1972, back when “we were farmin’ and raisin’ kids and makin’ ends meet,” he said. After reading a book called 60 Years of Chevys, he said, “If that guy’s gonna write the book, I’m gonna have the Chevys!” So he began looking for old cars he could buy cheaply. During the winter, with his cattle in the cornfields and free time on his hands, he and his son, Alan, restored cars.

Back in the 1970s and ’80s, Chevyland drew 50 visitors a day, and did a brisk business in T-shirts, hats and books. Things are slower today. The blue paint on the metal building is dull and faded, and a few of the letters spelling “Chevyland U.S.A.” hang precariously. Inside, the museum smells of mustiness and oil. Cars sit in various stages of restoration amid stacks of tires and hubcaps. Faded banners hang from the ceiling, such as, “New 1954 Chevrolet Trucks, Coming November 28th.”

Ten years ago, Hollertz began selling some of his prized Chevys. “First thing I know, I’ve busted up my collection,” he said. And though he says he “shouldn’t-a did it,” the extra money has allowed him and his wife to travel.

While Hollertz and I chatted in the lobby, a visitor came in from the museum. “Got any ’57s?” he asked.

“We sold ’em,” Hollertz replied. “Took the money and bought beer. I’m kidding, but that’s a good excuse.” He and the visitor began talking about cars they’d owned and loved. The man said he’d bought a ’57 Chevy when it was new, but later let it get away. Now he wishes he still had it. He was a young man when he bought that car, and though he didn’t say it in so many words, perhaps if he had that car again, some part of him would still be that young man. That’s why he came to the museum.

I’ve heard as much at Harold Warp Pioneer Village in Minden, home of the state’s largest antique auto collection. General Manager Marshall Nelson told of an elderly couple who asked that a barrier be taken down, so they could pose for a photo by a Model A Ford. They used to have one just like it. “You could tell by the expression on their faces that they were reliving that memory,” Nelson said.