Williams, AZ to Gallup, NM

And so our intrepid family braves the harsh elements to resume the eastward trek, in search of knowledge, meaning, and America's best t-shirts and tchotchkes...

Day Four of the adventure began with a critical question: do we cheat on their diets and sample the Sugar Corn Pops available at the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel's all-you-can-stand breakfast buffet?

Common sense prevailed.

Meantime, the lovely, oblivious Lulu wolfed down her daily constitutional of Cookie Crisp cereal.

We checked out, piled into Ann's trunk the six tons of Travel Essentials and quite suddenly, we were New Mexico bound.

Slicing through stormy weather on a route that sadly relied heavily on Interstate 40 -- because huge sections of Route 66 in Arizona no longer exist -- our first major stop was the majestic Meteor Crater, six miles off the highway near Winslow. This
is one big hole. Almost as big a hole as a member of Barry's family.

Lulu was impressed with the giant, wind-sucking crater created by a meteor 50,000 years ago. Ann had visited once before, many years before her life was transformed by marriage, but it was Barry's first view of the pit.

No one had warned him how much the wind gusts would muss up his careful coif. It was touch-and-go for awhile.

From there it was on to the only great disappointment of the trip so far: Winslow, AZ. Despite advertised promises from the locals, there was no girl in a flat bed Ford, slowing down to take a look at us. In fact, there was pretty much nothing in Winslow. No charming establishments, no picturesque old town, no babe beckoning from a pickup, no nothing.

We've already called our lawyer, who is busy drafting a suit against Jackson Browne and Glenn Frey. In short, we didn't take it easy.




We cheered up in Jack Rabbit, where our quest to pose Lulu with the most ridiculous giant animal re-creations hit another high. As you can see, Jack Rabbit is home to one big jack rabbit. Best of all: as we pulled into town, what song was playing in the car:

Yeah, that's right: White Rabbit. You can't make this stuff up.

As disappointing as Winslow was, Holbrook was terrific. Picturesque downtown, highlighted by another wigwam-themed motel. Lulu kindly allowed us to pose her with both the classic Route 66 hotel office, and then with a junker truck that seemed right out of The Last Picture Show.







Across the Painted Desert we drove, swerving between the raindrops and gasping at the red/orange clay mesas on the Navajo Reservation.

And finally, the piece de resistance: the inexpressibly beautiful El Rancho Hotel/Motel, our destination in Gallup. Built in 1937 by the brother of D.W. Griffith, this western-themed palace is in the midst of restoration -- and is awesomely beautiful.

Across the El Rancho's facade is the slogan "The Charm of Yesterday, the Convenience of Tomorrow."

The lobby is all hand-carved wood, original flagstone floors, player piano, huge stone fireplace (where Lulu posed for us), Native American artifacts, movie memorabilia, cowboy crap -- everything from a bygone era. We loved it!

Every major star -- and quite a few minor ones -- from Hollywood's Golden Era has stayed at the El Rancho. Every room has the name above the door of the star that stayed there. The exercise room was once Duke Wayne's private room. The desk clerk showed us the Presidential Suite, Ronald Reagan's favorite during his acting career.

However... we are staying in a room once occupied by the immortal William Bennett.

William Bennett? The gambling-addicted, crackpot former Education Secretary?

We can't be sure if it's him (why? why? why?), or if there was some obscure actor with that name from 60 years ago.

It's a swell room. But William Bennett? If somebody would check that name on imdb, maybe there will be a happy ending to this part of the story.

And so it's on to Albuquerque.

Until then...