The state's liveliest highway is one you'd probably never guess.

But with an airport, a brewery, Bayway, the state's two greatest bridges, a nuclear power plant, a seaport and a dinosaur along the way, Route 9 is soulful and cinematic in a way that 22, 206 and certainly not 78 or 80 could ever be.

Stops and starts aside, no other highway reveals the state better than 9, which slides seamlessly from urban to suburban, small town and country as it slowly but surely heads south.

This is no expressway to your motoring heart; because of the constant lights and traffic, your speedometer will not regularly poke above 50.

Route 9 in Jersey starts, with big brother U.S. Route 1, at the George Washington Bridge, making a slow lazy loop through Fort Lee, Palisades Park and Ridgefield, noodling through North Bergen and Jersey City, taking flight as the incomparable Pulaski Skyway (with truck route 1 and 9 below).

Then, it becomes a NASCAR-worthy straightaway past Newark Liberty International Airport and the Budweiser plant until it veers right into the Elizabeth-to-Rahway corridor, a gritty yet thriving stretch of diners, bars, tattoo parlors, pizzerias, gas stations and motels.

Like the Benedict Motel in Linden, which offers "Destination Rooms," and they're not kidding. The "Japan" room features sliding doors; the Thahiti (their spelling) Room, a thatched-roof bed. My favorite: the Igloo Room, with snowshoes on the walls, a polar bear-like rug above the bed and plate-holding penguin figurines on the side.

Who says you can't stay in style on Route 9?

This cemetery along 1/9 in Linden offers a panoramic view of Bayway.

Finally, in front of Woodbridge Center, 9 sheds its big brother and heads off on its own, speed-dialing through a land of strip malls, motels and diners, psychics, weight loss centers and professional offices. There are big-box stores, to be sure, but the southern half of 9 is a grab bag of commerce, camp and kooky names: Male Ego Barber Spa. Your Bag Lady. ShowerMan. The Pet Asylum. Billy Bob's Car Wash. Peace Token Bait & Tackle. Lite-Em Up Cigars.

A sign in Waretown advertises income tax help, hypnosis and massage.

Hopefully, not all at the same time.

Within short driving distance of one other in Howell are the golden-domed magnificence of the St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral and the faded Moon Motel sign, the most splendid piece of roadside kitsch in the state.

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In Ocean County, the retro-spaceship-like Forked River Diner, enough garages to take care of every car in the state, white-shingled country churches and one Wunder Wiener.

Actually, it's Der Wunder Wiener, Jerry LaCrosse's hot dog hut on 9 southbound in Beachwood. One thing you never have to worry about is parking. The 8-by-14 building sits in front of an abandoned shopping center.

"You know what makes 9 good?" says LaCrosse, who opened the business in 1984. "They don't have center dividers down here. You can make a left-hand turn into a business."

"This isn't like 1 and 9 in Newark," says customer Bill Polidore, a former Westfield resident who now lives in Barnegat. "People ride bikes on this road, they walk on this road."

The WPA Guide to 1930s New Jersey laid out a nearly mile-by-mile itinerary of Route 9's 139-mile journey from Woodbridge to Cape May with its typical mix of blunt candor and Chamber of Commerce cheer.

"The Arthur Kill is now so polluted by oil and sewage that even gulls avoid it," the guide says at one point.

Later, of Toms River: "An attractive fishing community ... widely known for its excellent clam chowder, always served with ship's biscuit."

For those road-tripping in their Model As and Hupmobiles, the WPA Guide made note of such local flavor as the claypits in South Amboy; Lanoka Harbor, originally called Good Luck; and Barnegat Pete. "Waretown's most publicized resident" was a tame deer "known to and claimed by every schoolchild for miles." Pete wore a red and white blanket and "enjoyed automobile riding," although, one would hope, not on his own.

The legendary Bayville Dinosaur has been run into by cars over the years, but still survives.

There's no mention of the Bayville Dinosaur in the guide, but the fiberglass beast still stands watch over the highway. The dinosaur, built in the 1930s and said to have been an attraction at the 1964 New York World's Fair, is anchored in front of a vacant building. If you ever wanted to rent a storefront with dinosaur attached, now's the time.

The state's most honest highway piggybacks onto the Garden State Parkway at several points, including the spectacular leap across Great Egg Harbor Bay. The Beesley's Point bridge, which carried Route 9 over the bay, has been closed since 2004 and is scheduled to be torn down.

A moment of silence, then, for that bridge and other long-gone Route 9 landmarks -- the Green Street circle; Poor Billy's; Clare and Coby's; and the Amboy Cinemas multiplex, among others.

The Rio Grande Cemetery, with its Western movie-like name and sweeping gateway, is still with us, even if it is squeezed between a Walmart and a Lowe's in that Cape May County community. You can almost imagine gunfighters buried here -- if you close your eyes and shut your ears to the clatter of shopping carts.

The highway ends, somewhat abruptly, at the Cape May-Lewes Ferry in North Cape May. At its end, Route 9 is known as Lincoln Boulevard and Sandman Boulevard, but this highway never puts you to sleep.

From the GW to the Edison Bridge to the quiet little beach at journey's end -- that's Route 9. Busy, bumpy, bouncy -- the road may be past its prime, but this is one hip highway.

Beautiful?

Not really.

Boring?

Not ever.

There's more on Route 9 than most give credit. The road most traveled is often the road least seen, or appreciated.