Devilish 666 name is going down in flames

MONTICELLO, San Juan County — Dean Collard, a Port of Entry agent in southeastern Utah, has seen people traveling on the road headed east out of town suddenly gasp as they glanced at something and then quickly turn their vehicles around and redirect to another route.

"A few drivers," he said, "were too spooked to drive on it."

You would've thought they'd seen a ghost on the side of the road. Or maybe the creepy old lady who some claim they've seen wandering along desolate parts of this highway at night. Or perhaps a skinwalker, one of those powerful, shape-shifting spirits that Navajo legend claims have been cursed and roam the area.

Or none of the above.

What they saw, Collard says, was the road sign that made them wonder if they were on the Highway to H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks, Purgatory Pathway or Lucifer's Lane.

That's because here the official U.S. government-issued signs by mere coincidence display a road name that the Bible claims to be the "Number of the Beast" — 666.

This supposedly satanic strip stretches through 190 miles in three states — basically going east-west from Monticello to Cortez, Colo., and then north-south to Gallup, N.M.

It's been infamously known as "The Devil's Highway."

Until now.

U.S. 666 is losing its unintentional alliance with the Archfiend. The Utah Department of Transportation joined forces with New Mexico and Colorado to persuade the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials to exorcise Satan's serial number from their streets.

It will be dubbed U.S. 491 — 393 was another option — now that the AASHTO board of directors on Monday approved renaming recommendations made by two committees at annual meetings in Lexington, Ky. "I guess it'll calm a few nerves," Collard said.

New Mexico's governor initiated this latest attempt at casting evil images of the devilish drag, which got its unintended demonic distinction in 1926 simply because it was the sixth branch of U.S. 66. Gov. Bill Richardson wants to repave the road (with good intentions, of course) from two lanes to four and purge it from netherworld connotations and from thieves who often snatch the signs for souvenirs.

New Mexico legislators concurred and passed a resolution, according to the Washington Post, because they were eager to dissipate the "cloud of opprobrium" that loomed over the road. Sounds spooky.