New Mexico
Next Stop
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Welcome to New Mexico |
Next Stop |
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Okay, so somewhere along the line, bragging rights trumped expediency. So, we left the freeway to say we drove on Route 66. And it wasn’t all that. But hey, “We drove Route 66!” – at least for a few hours. After we’d seen enough roadside plight, we made tracks back to expediency. However, the romance and allure of Route 66 never goes away. You want a slice of history to engulf your present. On and off, we’d sidetrack searching for that lost Americana icon of a roadway. At the end of the day and the end of the line – for now – we decided to dine at a place where the sign simply said – Restaurant. I think the selling point was that this curbside diner had a smaller round sign that said, “Route 66.” Nostalgia tugged at our hearts so we stopped there for a bite to eat. The moment we sat at the window-side booth, it felt right. This was Route 66. The no frills, non-descript eatery was a throwback and therefore full of frills. Maybe not to the regulars or the folks working there but it was to us. The lunch counter, stools, booths, tabletops and even the mustard and ketchup bottles looked the part of this all-American experience of Yesteryear. It wasn’t in that fake modern way seen in a Steak ‘n Shake restaurant where everything is new. This place was unchanged. It had authentic scratches in the table, worn seats, well trafficked floor and a waitress that said, “Evenin folks – My name is Betsy – Long drive? – Whatcha all gonna get?” And her bubble gum popped as she withdrew a pencil from behind her ear and a pad from her apron pocket. It didn’t matter what I was "gonna get" because I knew it would be good. Then, as sure as the sun shines, a rainbow appeared in such a fashion it was surreal as we peered at it through the mini blinds. Only it was a double treat – it was a double rainbow. The rest was icing on the cake. True to a traveler’s delight, this everyday-looking greasy-spoon served up generous proportions of mouth-watering grub so satisfying it quelled the hunger of a bona fide vagabond’s appetite.
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NEW MEXICO Throughout the day, we made periodic detours to checkout old Route 66. Somewhere along the way we made a pit stop to leave our mark on a piece of American folklore. But the main stop of the day was Petroglyphs National Monument in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
If ever there was a place we were going to have a rattlesnake casualty this was it. The ridge was made of rocks and boulders piled and strewn all about, together forming a hill. It was like a mini mountain range. But there was a pathway zig-zagging up, around, to the front – side – back and around to the front again of this earthen formation accumulated by the remnants of volcanic activity. The byproduct – basalt. To the Native Americans it was their canvas and they used it for thousands of years carving approximately 24,000 images into the rocks found everywhere. At the summit of the volcanic core, we heard thunder and froze! Standing atop the highest elevation anywhere around, we listened for more thunder nearly jumping off of the steep ridge when lightening lit up the sky. The race down was awkward. We were tripping on each other, wary of a misstep that could send us tumbling head over heels to the nearest hospital. The wind kicked up with a fierce vengeance as if we just pissed off the spirits of the land. When we finally hit bottom, it was a mad-dash for the vehicle. Once safely inside, we marveled at the driving rains and high winds blowing viciously against the windows determined to get us. Then, nothing. The wind was whipping on and off in the distance. “What’s that?” I asked. SANDSTORM. To locals it was probably not that big a deal but to us, we had never seen one, not even a small or moderate one. So like any tourist, I rolled down my window to get a better look …and picture. BAM!
“What were you thinking?” my wife asked – over and over. The kids thought it was awesome. So I had that. Once we recovered and swept as much sand as we could from the vehicle, we got back out to continue exploring the petroglyphs. The images were mostly rudimentary. They looked like something a first-grader might bring home to hang on the fridge. “Look at my picture of the dog,” and by dog they mean alien. Some of the rock etchings indeed looked like aliens – no imagination necessary. Others were unmistakably snakes, birds, and other animals. Some were just complex designs. None-the-less, this was a captivating stop in more ways than one. It was difficult to tear away when we all wanted to explore more sites. But all good things – and times – must come to an end. When we drove back out to the main road and passed the visitors center, fire trucks had just finished extinguishing a blaze caused by a lightning strike.
We all just
sort of looked at each other, dumbfounded, with
expressions best described by the now familiar – OMG!
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New Mexico Museum
Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, Texas was the ultimate pit stop. Just pull off the side of the road, hop out, run to the open field and let loose with your spray paint on a bunch of upended Cadies, half buried, sticking into the air. It’s definitely a bizarre sight – barren land with bent and twisted steel sprouting from the ground all graffitied up in wild colorful expressions. Just make sure you plan ahead and bring your own cans of spray paint because you won’t find a place to buy any nearby. And the cans discarded on the ground are certain to be dry. Nobody leaves Cadillac Ranch without dispensing every ounce of liquid paint onto the Cadillacs that will never rust due to the impenetrable coatings. This place is the epitome of roadside America. Sometimes, it feels good to be a hoodlum, if only for a while. |
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