The Road to San Diego: Day 4 − 30 June, 2007
Oklahoma City, OK to Tucumcari, NM
To say that I was looking forward to this particular part of the trip would be an understatement. Today we would leave the bland efficiency of Interstate 40 behind for the quirky meanderings of Route 66 or as it is more properly known today, Historic Route 66. As has been documented ad infinitum, Route 66 was, for nearly 50 years, the original coast-to-coast "interstate".
Unlike the Interstate system, which normally shun direct contact with the central business districts of cities, U.S. routes such as 66 consider such traversals of county seats to be their raison d'etre. These paths were conceived in a time when the journey from point A to point B was the real adventure. These days, our vacations don't truly start until we arrive at our final destination. In 1984, the shift from "journey" to "destination" culminated in the final leg of Route 66 being bypassed by the interstate system. Route 66 was decertified as a U.S. highway and the towns which once thrived on the traffic carried by the Mother Road began to fade into memory.
Juggling the laptop and an attached GPS, we were able to wind our way through the remnants of Oklahoma City morning traffic to 39th Street and the beginning of our Route 66 detour. The first city of note was Yukon, with its large neon-encrusted grain elevator rising from the center of town. While the crew awoke at various points as I rattled off something about the towns that we passed through, it was somewhat obvious that the Route 66 Bug is an selective illness.
I can remember that day back in 1988 when I heard Depeche Mode's take on the old Bobby Troupe standard. Driving through Franklin, TN where I lived at the time, I was intrigued by the dark twist on a song that I had a passing familiarity with. So intrigued that I called the radio station, Rebel 100, to find out who performed the track. Over time, I became I little bit obsessed with wanting to know more about what the real Route 66 was all about. It wasn't until 1995 that I had a chance to spend some time on its worn concrete slabs. In 2000, I took the full ride from Chicago to San Bernardino while in-between jobs.
Given that a large portion of our journey was going to parallel the old road, I made sure to work in a few stops, such as the Blue Swallow Motel in Tucumcari, NM in order to share the experience. By this point in the trip, however, I think there was a fair amount of "are we there yet" syndrome going 'round. Sleeping and plugging into the iPod seemed to be the prominent activities in the van. A couple of stops, however, did seem to catch everyone's interest.
First was dinner at the Big Texan Steak House in Amarillo, TX. For the past 200 miles we had seen billboards touting "Free 72oz Steak". By late in the afternoon we had reached this mecca of beef. As we walked in, we noticed the mini-shrine set up to display what one had to consume in one hour to earn the free steak. It is my opinion that having to consume 6 pounds of beef, a salad and a baked potato in 60 minutes is by no means a free ride, as was evidenced by the gentleman making the attempt while we were there.
The would-be beefmaster was a guy similar in age and build to Daniel. According to our waitress, men of these characteristics were the most common victors. That said, only about 1 in 17 who try the stunt actually succeed. The price for the losers? $72.00 As the minutes disappeared, so did the fellow's resolve. At 45 minutes to go, he was almost relaxed as he cut into the steak. At 15 minutes before uh oh, he was definitely struggling to get each bite down. We couldn't help notice the big trash can at the end of the table where he sat. I asked the waitress if anyone had lost it during the attempt. Yep, that was what the trash can was for. Fortunately, while this day's challenger was bested by the beef, he did not hang his head in the can of shame.
After dinner, we continued down the road a few miles to one of the stranger landmarks near Route66...Cadillac Ranch. The image of ten Cadillacs buried nose first in the Texas dirt is one that everyone has probably seen at one time or another. The site is a true example of living art; evolving with each new design or message added to the vehicles by visitors.
Using permanent markers and nail polish, we added our own footnotes to the story. Nothing terribly creative, just something to note our visit.
The sun had hidden behind a large cloud bringing an early sunset to the land as we approached the Texas/New Mexico border. Stradling the line between the two states was the last of our Route 66 stops - the ghost town of Glenrio. Labeled as Exit 0 on Interstate 40, Glenrio stands as a cautionary tale of what happens when a town is bypassed by a major thoroughfare. During the heyday of the Mother Road, Glenrio was able to support a motel (alternately boasting as the Last and First Motel In Texas - depending on your direction of travel), a cafe and a post office). The motel/cafe was the first casualty of the interstate system. By the mid-1980s there were not enough residents left to justify the post office. The current population likely is in the single digits.
Jasa and I took about 30 minutes to explore the ruins of the motel before darkness and the general spookiness of the place sent us packing for the van. We were quite happy to see the lights of Tucumcari just a few miles further down the road.
To say that I was looking forward to this particular part of the trip would be an understatement. Today we would leave the bland efficiency of Interstate 40 behind for the quirky meanderings of Route 66 or as it is more properly known today, Historic Route 66. As has been documented ad infinitum, Route 66 was, for nearly 50 years, the original coast-to-coast "interstate".
Unlike the Interstate system, which normally shun direct contact with the central business districts of cities, U.S. routes such as 66 consider such traversals of county seats to be their raison d'etre. These paths were conceived in a time when the journey from point A to point B was the real adventure. These days, our vacations don't truly start until we arrive at our final destination. In 1984, the shift from "journey" to "destination" culminated in the final leg of Route 66 being bypassed by the interstate system. Route 66 was decertified as a U.S. highway and the towns which once thrived on the traffic carried by the Mother Road began to fade into memory.
Juggling the laptop and an attached GPS, we were able to wind our way through the remnants of Oklahoma City morning traffic to 39th Street and the beginning of our Route 66 detour. The first city of note was Yukon, with its large neon-encrusted grain elevator rising from the center of town. While the crew awoke at various points as I rattled off something about the towns that we passed through, it was somewhat obvious that the Route 66 Bug is an selective illness. I can remember that day back in 1988 when I heard Depeche Mode's take on the old Bobby Troupe standard. Driving through Franklin, TN where I lived at the time, I was intrigued by the dark twist on a song that I had a passing familiarity with. So intrigued that I called the radio station, Rebel 100, to find out who performed the track. Over time, I became I little bit obsessed with wanting to know more about what the real Route 66 was all about. It wasn't until 1995 that I had a chance to spend some time on its worn concrete slabs. In 2000, I took the full ride from Chicago to San Bernardino while in-between jobs.
Given that a large portion of our journey was going to parallel the old road, I made sure to work in a few stops, such as the Blue Swallow Motel in Tucumcari, NM in order to share the experience. By this point in the trip, however, I think there was a fair amount of "are we there yet" syndrome going 'round. Sleeping and plugging into the iPod seemed to be the prominent activities in the van. A couple of stops, however, did seem to catch everyone's interest.
First was dinner at the Big Texan Steak House in Amarillo, TX. For the past 200 miles we had seen billboards touting "Free 72oz Steak". By late in the afternoon we had reached this mecca of beef. As we walked in, we noticed the mini-shrine set up to display what one had to consume in one hour to earn the free steak. It is my opinion that having to consume 6 pounds of beef, a salad and a baked potato in 60 minutes is by no means a free ride, as was evidenced by the gentleman making the attempt while we were there.
The would-be beefmaster was a guy similar in age and build to Daniel. According to our waitress, men of these characteristics were the most common victors. That said, only about 1 in 17 who try the stunt actually succeed. The price for the losers? $72.00 As the minutes disappeared, so did the fellow's resolve. At 45 minutes to go, he was almost relaxed as he cut into the steak. At 15 minutes before uh oh, he was definitely struggling to get each bite down. We couldn't help notice the big trash can at the end of the table where he sat. I asked the waitress if anyone had lost it during the attempt. Yep, that was what the trash can was for. Fortunately, while this day's challenger was bested by the beef, he did not hang his head in the can of shame.After dinner, we continued down the road a few miles to one of the stranger landmarks near Route66...Cadillac Ranch. The image of ten Cadillacs buried nose first in the Texas dirt is one that everyone has probably seen at one time or another. The site is a true example of living art; evolving with each new design or message added to the vehicles by visitors.
Using permanent markers and nail polish, we added our own footnotes to the story. Nothing terribly creative, just something to note our visit.The sun had hidden behind a large cloud bringing an early sunset to the land as we approached the Texas/New Mexico border. Stradling the line between the two states was the last of our Route 66 stops - the ghost town of Glenrio. Labeled as Exit 0 on Interstate 40, Glenrio stands as a cautionary tale of what happens when a town is bypassed by a major thoroughfare. During the heyday of the Mother Road, Glenrio was able to support a motel (alternately boasting as the Last and First Motel In Texas - depending on your direction of travel), a cafe and a post office). The motel/cafe was the first casualty of the interstate system. By the mid-1980s there were not enough residents left to justify the post office. The current population likely is in the single digits.
Jasa and I took about 30 minutes to explore the ruins of the motel before darkness and the general spookiness of the place sent us packing for the van. We were quite happy to see the lights of Tucumcari just a few miles further down the road.
