Lulu’s been clamoring to see the Lone Star State ever since seeing a Sponge Bob episode earlier this year in which Sandy Cheeks gets homesick for her home state and is mocked by both Sponge Bob and Patrick.
For more details on that episode, please contact Lulu directly.
We wheeled down Route 66 in Albuquerque, where the Mother Road is called Central Avenue, and soon found that the beloved route from mid-New Mexico all the way to Texas is pretty flat and, topographically speaking, mostly uninspiring.
But the towns and the sights along the way! Although for time reasons we skipped the Santa Fe Loop, we were not hurting for swell stuff to see.
Like the American tradition you can’t enjoy in California – Stuckey’s.
Yep, that roadside candy/sundries chain is alive and well in the south and southwest. Barry couldn’t resist buying a box of Stuckey’s $2.99 Peanut Brittle, as he waxed nostalgic over his dad’s best road trip one-liner, uttered more than 40 years ago:
“You be the Stuckee, I’ll be the Stuckor.”
The bustling little town of Tucumcari (pronounced too-come-CAR-ee) offered up a mixed bag of thrills and sadness: we found the Club Café had bitten the dust, a victim of soul-sucking Interstate 40; the vintage Buckaroo Motel was still chooglin’ along after all these years (we’d have killed to see the neon sign glowing after nightfall); our hats were off to the ageless La Cita café; and Lulu graciously offered to pose before the eternal Blue Swallow Motel, where we learned the beloved proprietress, former Harvey Girl Lillian Redman, was 11 years gone – but a new owner had restored the entire place to 1940s roadside elegance and is booked solid, with a long waiting list! (There is a God.)
Tucumcari also offered us the atmospheric, totally restored Tepee Curios shop. Just like stepping into postwar America, without having to think about Thomas Dewey.
Then, sadness: the ghost town of Glenrio, at the very edge of the state. The abandoned service station you see is typical of the ruins there. To see the remnants of peoples’ hopes and dreams, left like husks for the elements to pick at, is just heartbreaking.
Ann very much wanted to dine at the Midpoint Café, just over the Texas line and located precisely halfway between Route 66’s start in Chicago and its terminus at Santa Monica Pier. But the café was closed when we arrived, since the owners freely admit they open and close as they see fit. Ah bien!
As we approached Amarillo, we couldn’t resist stopping at the world-famous Cadillac Ranch. That’s where Amarillo native Stanley Marsh, a graduate of Penn and the Wharton School of Finance, in 1974 half-buried a series of big-finned Cadillacs as a monument to Route 66 and its promise of the open road. The Caddies have been tagged in all colors by admiring travelers, and it’s a bewilderingly beautiful sight.
We finally arrived at the Country Inn and Suites in Amarillo, finishing our ride on an original stretch of the Mother Road.
Lulu swaggered into the lobby, cowboy hat planted firmly atop those blonde curls, and announced to anyone within earshot, “Howdy, y’all!”
Absolutely true, and completely unexpected.
Tomorrow, we’ll explore Amarillo, and maybe even –gasp! -- just relax.
2 comments:
At last, the cars.
Now if you'd begun with "Aimin for Asomethingorother," you could have had Sue Grafton sponsor your blog!
Fascinating, simply fascinating, and wonderful photos! I gasped at those Cadillacs! And I'm not suprised that the Blue Swallow is booked solid.
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