Date: 22 May 2007
Start: Decatur, Texas
End: Tucumcari, New Mexico
Distance Travelled: 456 miles
Duration: 11 (including accounting for CDT to MDT change)
Map link.

Well, this particular day got out to a great start, and actually managed to maintain that all throughout. Decatur, Texas, was chosen as a layover point primarily because of its distance from Houston, but we also lucked out - tucked away in the back of the town, up against the railway lines, on the corner of BR-81 and Hale Avenue, is a Petrified Wood gas station. The station is now a private office for a very friendly retired gentleman, whose wife's grandmother built the original gas station back in the 1920s. That same family operated it as a fully-functional gas station until 1990 when the wife's father died. For those with a really nostalgic bent, when the station was originally opened, gas was sold at a penny per gallon - I do not think it is physically possible to even dispense a penny's worth of gas these days. The petrified wood itself was not actually part of the original construction, but instead was added sometime in the 1930s after being collected from a field in the Decatur area. The hotel behind the station (a more permanent replacement for the tent camp that once occupied the area), constructed in a slightly more normal rock style, was never finished, though the rooms were rented for $1.50 a night, including breakfast at the cafe right next door, which is still open and doing a thriving business, from all appearances. Interestingly enough, Bonnie and Clyde visited the hotel in the 1930s, shortly before their deaths... no doubt an interesting experience for the owners. Any way you look at it, however, this gas station is an interesting piece of American history, and well worth the five minutes necessary to turn it up.

Headed out of town on 287, we stumbled upon yet another wonderful find right before the town of Wichita Falls. Just outside of town is a classic car... well... lot, for lack of a better word. From the information we were able to gather from a local, Mr. Fred Robinson, now in his eighties, runs the lot, and owns the vehicles therein. And what vehicles... Old Dodge pickups, Studebakers, Cadillacs, VWs, fins, and bulletnoses galore. Unfortunately, due to his advanced age, Mr. Robinson does not come in to man the lot very often, so what you can see of the cars has to be through the fence surrounding the grounds. The good news is that his phone number is posted on a placard on the gate, and he does answer his home number, so if you are interested in a vehicle, feel free to give him a call - he gave me an honest assesment of one of the Studebakers, and due to my lack of upholstery skills, I, unfortunately, had to pass on it. However, do not even try to ask him about purchasing the two vehicles visible inside the only showroom on the premises... The very fact that they are the only vehicles in an enclosed, no-doubt-air-conditioned space should have given it away, but the plethora of polishing cloths, impeccable condition, and remarkable rarity of both of them just adds to the allure... and the fact that he ain't sellin'. I do not blame him in the slightest, tiniest bit. I leave it as an exercise to the reader to discover what these gems are.

The only thing of note to Wichita Falls itself is that to stay on 287N, stay in the left lane, and take exit 3A. Yes, you will be taking an exit from 287N to 287N, but... yeah, just do not ask me. Still heading north (well, north west... west north west... close enough) on 287, you will eventually come across the town of Quanah. The town itself is not particularly distinctive, except for the tobacco-store alien (yes, "alien", not "indian") that greets you on the way into town, and the metal artwork/junkyard a little farther into the town. For some reason that rusted-metal look has always been nifty to me, and this particular place had it by the boatload. Thankfully, none of the pieces stood a chance of fitting in our already-packed car.

We stopped a little farther up the road at a little town called Clarendon for lunch, however, while this town qualifies as "little" in my books, it dwarfed the villages between Quanah and itself. If you are running low on gas or food, be sure to grab it when you can, otherwise it may be a space before you can get it again. However, if you are looking for good, basic, Texas bar-b-que, Sam Hill's Pit BBQ in Clarendon, TX, certainly fits the bill. The portion size is more than sufficient to get you full, and the massive drinks are made even better by free refills. The decor is what I imagine to be typical Texas-cowboy (though we saw our first official Route 66 roadsign here), and the bathrooms were clean, so it definitely met our requirements. Prices, as pictured here, are more than reasonable.

Now we get to the fun part.

As we came north-west on Texas 287, we took a left turn onto 1151 (Claude Highway) in, oddly enough, Claude, and proceeded down it until we were approximately 11 miles past its intersection with 2250. From there, you cannot help but to notice the eleven, various-era combines, firmly planted in the field on the north side of the road. Sure enough, these mechanical beasts, some possibly built shortly after the advent of the internal combustion engine, are all dug into the earth, propped up at a 45-degree angle, and pointed south-west. Unfortunately, they are all protected behind a barbed wire fence, and the residence of their... well... "creator" is the wrong word... "manager"? is not too far off, so getting in amongst them to get closeups and the such is not possible. This manner of protection is probably due to some other artistic items of surprising similarity up the road, but no matter how you look at it, this is all manner of shiny. There is something strangely surreal about seeing massive mechanical devices, some the size of small homes, being plucked out of their raucous daily work and planted for the world to see. Maybe it is just me. Either way, if you are in the Amarillo area, Combine/Tractor Ranch is definitely worth a detour.

Continuing west-bound on 1151, we took a left on S. Washington Street (1541), then a right on West McCormick Street, and then headed towards Interstate 27. However, right before we got there, we took a right on the access road (ANOTHER ONE!) and paralleled the highway for a bit (for those interested, you can leave the highway at exit 113 and reach the exact same point). Once we got to the intersection of the access road and Sundown Lane (the road climbs over the highway, but does not intersect it), we were confronted with yet another impressive sight. Now, supposedly this item has been here pretty much since people started occupying the area around Amarillo, though I honestly have no real clue. According to the plaque at its base, Percy Bysshe Shelley and his wife, Mary Wollstonecraft (you might know her better as Mary Shelley), stumbled across this construct back in 1819. Either way, seeing a massive pair of feet, attached to an equally massive pair of legs, one broken off slightly higher than the other and still retaining its knee, set upon a rather large pedastal... well, that is just odd. Reportedly, there is a face to go along with the feet, but vandals did sufficient damage to it that it had to be relocated to a museum (which we did not have time to visit) for preservation and protection. I honestly do not know what would possess someone to construct something like this in the middle of nowhere, but its simple presence alone is impressive. Oh, and the socks... mostly the byproduct of high school football game celebrations, which, coincidentally, are also the cause of the damage to the face.

We continued along the access road until we could get back on I-27, and then took it north until its intersection with I-40, and took it westbound. About ten miles after that interchange, hop off 40 at Arnot Road (exit 60), go under the interstate, and take a left on the, yet another, access road. Follow that for about a mile, and you will come upon the real reason we visited Amarillo - Cadillac Ranch, in all its glory. I had originally planned on going north through Roswell (what, me, a nerd?), but after watching Cars, Better Half talked me into visiting here instead (well, there really was not a lot of convincing to be done, I will admit...), and it was certainly worth the change. The ten Cadillacs, ranging in years from 1949 to 1963, were selected to represent the "Golden Age" of American automotive design. Granted, much of their style and elegance has been beaten out of them by years of weather, a move farther out from the expanding core of Amarillo, and hundreds of thousands of tourists (permitted, in fact, encouraged, 24/7), but there is still an undefinable allure to them. I honestly have no clue what is so nifty about taking hardware and planting it in the dirt like that, but it is undefinably cool. And yes, we came with paint - another permitted/encouraged activity at this particular Ranch. Though, a word of caution - the winds out there on the flats of Texas get a bit strong. Ok, a lot strong. You will definitely want to be mindful of where your spraycan is, where you are, and where the wind is... And where your camera is, too. I just about managed to sparkelize the lens of my spiffy new camera - if you want to see your author peeved, get him to damage one of his new toys. Unfortunately, this means I screwed up a lot of opportunities to take pictures of Better Half painting, so when you visit, be more careful than I was. Also, please, please, please pick up after yourself, and take your spray cans with you - you would not believe the amount of garbage and trash left behind by previous visitors. However, when you get there (and you should go there, if you are anywhere within a mile of it), if you see any random "GT"s, mention of George P. Burdell, or a "626" here or there, pay it no heed. Also, do not mind the cows - the Ranch is situated on... well... a ranch, and herds stroll by occasionally. Amusingly enough, while at Cadillac Ranch, we not only encountered a group of people who lived a scant ten miles from where we were moving from, but also a group from the location we were moving to. Small world.

Once we had our fill of Cadillacs (which took a while, granted), we kept on the access road back to exit 62, and stopped off at the Amarillo West RV Park there to wash our hands and clean up. Granted, we were not staying there, and that was probably a little improper of us, but we had paint all over the place, and did not really want to touch too much and risk transferring it. That said, the facilities in these restrooms were amazing - marble tiles throughout, full-size showerstalls with honest-to-God curtains and impressive fixtures, equally impressive sink fixtures, clean toilets... And all of this at a campground with a nightly rate of $19.95. If I were to ever camp near Amarillo, this would definitely be the place, what with pull-through slots (important for anyone who dislikes backing their campers... which is pretty much everyone), full hookups (complete with internet, wireless at that, I believe), and bathrooms you would not believe. There, does a glowing recommendation make up for using their facilities?

Headed westbound on I-40 again, we encountered spotty construction, until we got to exit 0. Yes, Texas has an exit 0 on I-40. Kinda wierd. However, that exit allows you access to the real, Historic Route 66, and here is where we got our first real taste of that road. Granted, out here in the sticks, it is a dirt road, and not terribly maintained, but what better way to get your feet wet on 66? My car was desperately in need of a shower after our drive from Glenrio (it used to be occupied, I promise) to our destination for the night, but it was so very much worth it. The road weaves through ranches and open areas, so be prepared for cows to block the road occasionally, and lots and lots of the "buzzbuzz" of crossing cattleguards, but the quiet solitude of driving on a dirt road, mostly out of view of I-40... well, as I said, there are worse ways to get your introduction to 66. After all, this kind of thing is exactly what we were looking for in setting up this cross-country trip. And the towns, or remnants of towns, you pass by only serve to add even more ambiance to the Mother Road, somehow still regal in their depressing decay. You will not make good speed on it, even after it gets to be paved shortly before San Jon (which is still sparsely occupied), but the scenery cannot be beaten, the nostalgic history of it you cannot find anywhere else, and it was well worth the detour, schedule or no. After all, we were out here to explore Route 66, be it paved, dirt, or whatever.

Coming in to Tucumcari on Route 66, you can easily see Tucumcari Mountain (the flat-top remanants of a volcano made so famous by the remarkably similar geological formation in Cars) from quite a distance away, though there is a spot right after where 66 dives under I-40 (at exit 335) where you can get a great picture of your car and the Mountain, should you so desire. After here, Route 66 becomes East Tucumcari Boulevard, and you enter Tucumcari proper.

That town... well, it is exactly as advertised - a historic Route 66 town. It is one of the few to survive, mainly because of its proximity to 40 when that highway was constructed, but I am glad to say that a lot of its nostalgic feel remains, and is intentionally preserved that way. The ravages of modern transportation and society have not stricken it unduly, besides the presence of chain gas stations and fast-food restaurants. We got there just in time for sunset, so we scrambled out to the west side of town, past where 66 joins back up with I-40, and set up our tripods on a small lump of a hill overlooking the rail line that goes through town. A word of advisement to those who would pull off on the side of the road to take pictures - due to living in at least suburban areas for most of my life, whenever I pull onto a shoulder, I turn on my flashers. That way, people do not hit my car - everyone is happy. However, as the Quay County sheriff who stopped to talk to us informed us, there is so little traffic in Tucumcari, that the flashers are completely unnecessary. And tend to generate undue police attention, apparently. Since this particular policeman had no less than two M-16s/AR-15s (could not see the selector/safety switches) and a shotgun all accessible from the front seat, I agreed with him, and turned off my flashers. Good to know. That particular vantage point, however, was quite satisfactory for sunsets, and yielded quite a few good shots. However, there is a better hill behind this particular one, on the other side of the road and a aqueduct - it is on private land, and while that land appears to be abandoned, we did not feel adventurous. Best of luck. Additionally, the Route 66 Monument on the west side of town has some interesting light plays on it towards sunset, and is an interesting sight regardless. Sure, it celebrates an older, gentler, quieter time for the Mother Road, but that is what makes exploring it so very cool.

Going back into town, we had dinner at Del's Restaurant, which offers remarkably good American and Mexican food in quite acceptable quantities. Their chips and salsa appeared home-made, and their service was attentive and helpful. The salad bar was decent, and along with a gift-shop on the premises, all of the artwork on the walls appeared to be for sale. As if the credentials of the restaurant were questionable, three honest-to-God cowboys, complete with boots, belts, and hats strolled in while we were eating and dug in themselves. A restaurant that meets the standards of the locals is good enough for me, and I would certainly recommend it to anyone going through Tucumcari. Menu pictured here and here.

So where did we spend the night at this, our first real Route 66 town? Where else, except the Blue Swallow Motel. This cute little vintage motel has not changed a great deal since its construction in 1939, but it is still a very pleasant place to rest off the day's journey. Bill and Terri, the current owners, along with their daughter, run the motel and associated gift shop, and certainly go out of their way to make their guests feel welcome - they had no problems with our slightly-late arrival, put our drinks and ice in the store's refrigerator, sat outside and chatted with their guests, and even were willing to work with custom requests to have neon on or off at the hotel for me to take pictures of. The rooms were kind of on the smallish side (indicative of the times they were constructed in), but considering the fact that they include the adjoining garage (yes, garage), I was willing to overlook it. Additionlly, the rooms were quite clean, and while the scented detergent they used on the bedspreads and sheets (both in good condition) smelled a little strong, it also further showed a concern for cleanliness. As another "sign of the times", be prepared for both a small shower stall (no tub), and a very short (at least for me, at 74 inches) shower head... people must have been a lot shorter back then. Before you think it cannot get any better, be sure to check out the heavily decorated VW bus on-site, as well as the beautifully blue-and-white classic car Bill owns. I could swear it is a Thunderbird, but my memory could be playing tricks with me. Supposedly, there is wireless internet on the property, though we did not have any success in connecting to it. You might have to request that Bill turn it on, or he may have simply turned it off when he turned in - he and his family live on-property, in the back of the gift shop, so please bear that in mind after hours. All said, the Blue Swallow Motel is exactly what it advertises itself to be - an authetic Route 66 motel, and I cannot think of a better place to stay in Tucumcari, or for your first night on 66 itself.

Speaking of neon, unfortunately, Tucumcari recently suffered a massive hailstorm which damaged, if not destroyed outright, most of the neon in the town - only seven or eight signs were lit at night, and the Blue Swallow's sign was only lit from one side. Bill said his damages easily reached close to $30,000, and I certainly do not doubt him... it was kind of a shame to see all of those great old signs flickering or dark completely. There is a restoration organization at work, and I can only hope they will be able to restore the main drag to its previous glory.

The previous days of our trip were pretty much an exercise in getting to this point quickly enough to allow us the time from here to the West Coast to enjoy all the sights, and all that rushing was worth it. I have to admit, by way of starting the real core of our vacation, I was not disappointed in the slightest bit. In fact, for me at least, Route 66, Tucucmari, and the Blue Swallow all exceeded my expectations, and only furthered my interest in exploring the Mother Road. Sure, that interest may have been spurred on my a Hollywood dramatization of the road (though, honestly, I have been interested in driving it for a while now), but there are worse reasons to go check something out.

The full set of pictures from to day can be found here.