Amarillo to Tucumcari

Wow. If I learn anything else, my head may explode.
I never realized how much this road trip would teach me about myself and my partner and this land I'm from. I was naive I suppose.
There is a fire raging in the desert. The big scary desert that scares me is on fire and it made me a bit kooky this morning. Suddenly this morning, I wanted, I needed to control everything. Nothing could be left to chance. Everything had to be planned. And even then I was certain that it would all go wrong.
As is my habit, I looked ahead on the map the night before and started googling vegetarian restaurants and researching accomodations and trying to figure out where we would stay. I had ideas and was ready to barrell through the landscape and make up miles to save up for the Grand Canyon. I won't bore you with the details, but a number of conversations took place between Ivo and I, debating the route. Ivo chose Tucumcari. We are in Tucumcari. We are both happy.
We started our morning with a cultural shock. After our evening in Amarillo, ecountering people who would be equally at home in the AS220, we met our inn-keeper. Ivo described her later as "a fairly typical soccer mom". I founf myself being overly agree-able with her. It was strange. We'd been alone in the B&B the whole night and suddenly there was this chatty woman in the kitchen, making us breakfast as we sat at the kitchen's island and telling us everything that we would ever ever ever need to know about her or that house.
Hers is the B&B that Oprah rented while she was in Amarillo for 2 months, during her defamation lawsuit with the Texas Beef Growers. The B&B belonged to someone else at the time, but she was able to tell us that ours was the room where Oprah's bodygaurd had stayed and that the room next to ours was the great lady herself's.
After swooning and learning and nodding our heads, we shoved off for the Toot and Totem (lovingly referred to as the "Fart and Fetchum" by locals). We got the cars fluids checked and filled and then mozied off on a massive detour to America's 2nd largest canyon. It was gorgeous and it is a real shame that we didn't have the time or provisions to enjoy it more. We rolled back toward Rt66 just in time to see the Cadillac Ranch. I'd been conflicted in wanting to vandalize the famously vandalized cars and then feeling wrong spraying paint on something that is not mine, in a gorgeous desert. Luckily, there were two young men sitting in a pickup's shade who were there to repaint the cars a base color. They were being paid to prepare the canvas, so to speak. In truth, they'd just finished when three vans filled with day-camp children pulled up with 50 kids and as many spray cans and ruined their work. They assured us that they were going to cover it soon anyhow and to go ahead and paint. In fact, if we wanted, we could take a can of their paint and cover the youngster's artwork. We did so and it was kind of fun.
We skeedadled and were excited to move along to the 2 towns that each claim to be the official mid-point of the Rt 66. In truth, we celebrated the half-way point exactly between the two towns. As we continued to the 2nd of these towns, ready for the Midway diner, we saw a young cyclist chugging along the shoulder in the midday heat. We stopped and offered him water and asked how he was faring. "Google maps lied and I'm trying to get to a diner" We promised him that it was just in 4 miles and offered him some trail mix. He declined but seemed pleased for the info and glad for the chat. We've read again and again how Dres (the guide's cyclist) felt the lonliness of the road and so instantly said "You'll make it in no time. We're headed there now! Join us for lunch. We'll buy you something and you can tell us about your travels!"
He did. He made great time and arrived hungry, thirsty and chatty. He's left Ohio a few weeks ago with a class-mate. The class-mate became woozy in Springfield MO and met with a terrible accident that landed him in hospital. The class-mate called for an update at the end of our meal and said that he'd been declared fit to travel and was flying home to Korea to spend the summer with his parents.
Ethan, our cycling lunch-companion is a 20 year old student in Worcester, OH. He decided to ride from OH to LA, loosely following RT 66, when he heard that some childhood friends from China rode from Hong Kong to Paris last year. (He commented on the power of a good passport.)
He was lonely and having a hard day today. He can't believe that he's still riding in vegetation and how expansive and "boring" the landscape is. "There is nothing in Texas! It's boring!"  I can only imagine  his frustration: He's 20, he was meant to be cycling with a friend, he's not romanced by the landscape, this is just a challenge and it^s challenging as hell. His Kindle goes untouched, he writes nothing and takes no pictures. He rises early cycles until midday. Takes shelter wherever he finds lunch and hits the road again after 4pm. He sleeps where he can and sleeps instantly after cycling. He was equally young and naive and prepared and earnest. It was really nice to meet him and to hear his story while Ivo reads Dres' story allowed and we live our own story. We exchanged contact information and I fear my motherly-tone when I warn him that they are now evacuating Luna and that the smoke is coming on the wind up into our path in New Mexico (if he hasn't noticed the dryness, scratchiness and mesquiteness of the wind already)
We're in a fairly classic-kitchy motel. Having cut our day short at 100 miles (not counting canyon detour). We'll head to the PowWow Restaurant down the road for dinner and have been told by the motels owner that the guests typically sit in folding chairs in front of their rooms, of an evening, swapping stories and drinking beer. It all sounds wonderful and I'm gratedul for Ivo's planning - and mine - and ours.
Tomorrow's destination is Santa Fe. It's North-west of here, which should mean that we're further away from the Arizona winds. We'll leave early and try and avoid the hottest parts of the day.

oklahoma to Texas (as much as I have time to write today)

Instead of an evening in blogging, we went to dinner and a movie tonight. It was the right decision.
For now, I'll simply record first impressions of Oklahoma to Texas.
The transition from ruby red dirt with green crops and trees to stretching acres of dry land with yellows and browns has been impressive.
In Texas I became dehydrated for the first time. We found a charming sandwich shop in western OK.
Ivo did the lions share of driving.
The website www.happycow.com led us to a vegetarian cafe for dinner, which happened to be the HQ of alternative culture in Amarillo TX. Bikes were parked in the cafe, but needed to be moved for a yoga class, which took place a mere 3 feet from the bar, where they'd made our yummy veggie chilli-covered dinners. We forgot about the black bean hummus, but have been told to not make that mistake in our travels in future. Ivo got some great info about cycling in Texas and we got a tip to go see the canyon south-west of the city. "2nd largest in the States". It's meant to be beautiful.
We've been warned about snakes, warned about storms and are planning a trip to a full service gas station to have our fluids checked. I'm a bit nervous.
Ivo and I continue to believe that cycling through texas must be far too challenging for most. It's tricky enough in a car!
Today we'll drink more water, keep our eyes open and head for New Mexico and a new time zone. (Sleepy Jessy was wrong in the last blog, turns out)

Let's see, where did we leave off

Last night there was a lovely hotel room and vegetarian food to be had, so there was no blogging.
We saw and missed more things than I can remember. Missed: Giant Praying hands. Saw: Giant Blue Whale in Catoosa. Missed: services in a southern baptist church. Saw: Sunday morning in a laundromat between WalMart and McDonalds in Kansas. Missed: too many other things Saw: our first confederate flag.
More of Kansas and the start of Oklahoma will hopefully come to me, but for now, I'm still reeling from this full-ass Monday.
The day began with fresh fruit, yummy yogurt and spelt muffin. (God bless Tulsa!)
OH! Sunday lunch was in a super sweet family restaurant where there were weird signs in the ladies powder room (ie if at first you don't succed, try it the way your wife told you to do it) and a kind waitress.
I then realized that I was frightened of traveling through Oklahoma city, which was strange, but easy to avoid on Rt 66. We traveled along, seeing lovely things and then had our phone date with our adoption case worker which was very strange. She told us that noone has requested our profile yet and I don't know how I feel about that.
Then we met the author of our Turn-by-Turn Rt66 EZ Guide in Chandler, OK.
We also saw some insane destruction from the tornadoes in El Reno, OK. Where a metal barn roof had torn away and been wrapped around a tree. Things were strewn everywhere and it was very sad.
The big things that struck me today were the following:
-Oklahoma is gorgeous. The red earth that borders the green plants; the vast stretches of gorgeous land and the beautiful animals that graze it are breathtaking.
Reading the words of the cyclist who wrote his account for the cycling guide book makes me sad. As -I'm falling in love with a part of the country I've never known, he's presenting a stereotype based on his experience, which seems, at times, colored by his mood or level of exhaustion.
-5 days in a car with one's partner requires a walk or moment alone now and again.
-I'm incapable of anticipating what tomorrow will bring on this trip, which creates an incredible freedom to which I am unaccustomed.
I'm a bit exhausted and believe that I have exhausted all that there is to see in Weatherford, so I'll go to bed. Tomorrow there will be a new time-zone, a new states and who knows what else?

Forgotten bits of MO and some more of MO

In Missouri, we were late. We were staying at a BnB and I was nervous about arriving late. I'd gotten it into my head that because they were comp-ing the room, I had to be a super guest. Luckily, nerdiness got the best of us and after Cuba we were Marshfield-bound.
Once we got to Marshfield, however, the town hall was nowhere to be found, which meant that the Hubble replica on it's lawn (in honor of it's Marshfield-born inventor) remained hidden as well.
"We'll just ask someone where it is," Ivo said, confidently, despite the fact that we have only very rarely seen any pedestrians at all since leaving Chicago. (I blame the unseasonable scorching heat.)
As luck would have it, a teenaged girl was emptying her mail box at 9pm on  a Friday night, and we were able to ask the way.
"Do you know where China Gardens is?" She asked. As Ivo said "No" I said "well....." Of course we don't know where it is, but she'd said that it was up the road and how hard can it be to find  a chinese restaurant in Marshfield, Missouri?
She hesitated "We haven't lived here that long, so it's hard to say..." She said and then went on to say "Just take a left down there and it's right by the storm sirens."
"Thanks!" we said and pulled away, realizing only once we were back on the road that we have no idea what a storm siren looks like. Truthfully, any other ethnic food restaurant would have been a better landmark for us.
Thanks to a large gun on the corner by the town hall, we found the Hubble, got back in the car and zoomed on to the BnB, where our room key with detailed instructions awaited us in the mailbox.
The jacuzzi in our room helped our road recovery and the place was really sweet. Unfortunately, our interview with the Missouri Rt 66 historian was cancelled, due to his being out of town. (We'd arranged it through the BnB owner.) Fortunately, we met an unlikely historian on the road.
We'd been determined to stop and get out more today, setting a shorter goal than we'd done the past few days, with the intention of making Baxter Springs KS for the night. Our first proper "should we take a photo? - do you want to get out?" moment was an old kitchy gas station that's no longer in operation, but where owner Gary sells a few Rt66 guide books. We stayed for more than an hour and a half and though Gary tended to repeat himself, he was an amazing wealth of knowledge. A kind-hearted, self-described "hill-billy" he gave us free cokes, took our photos and told us how the road was meant to be enjoyed. I felt so guilty every time I thought "So, guess we'd better be pushing off" because he inevitably was about to start a tangent about how city people rush around.
We recorded him a bit. He has a lovely accent that must reflect his childhood in the Ozark hills ("married at 16 years old. 'Bin married 50 years. Everyone was impressed that she's not even a family member.") He didn't just make fun of himself, however. He spoke of going off to California and "following his" (non-disclosed) "dream". "I just kept hard at work, never looking up at the sky and then one day, I looked up and said 'hey! there's a blue sky up there' and there was a cloud up in that sky and I thought 'I used to make dogs outta them' ya know or men, or shapes or whatever."
Back on the road we had no luck at all finding a decent lunch place and settled for something unsatisfying in Carthidge. (Luckily, a trip to an organic market had provided us with road snacks.)
After entering Kansas and an inpromptu meeting with a parade (Ivo expected the worst when he saw a bunch of cop cars, with lights blazing, blocking an intersection, but we'd just left Joplin, so...) we drove down a major strip until we curved left onto a quieter stretch. There, we found a simple white bridge. Over the main road there was a simple stone barrier, but if one forks a foot to the right and rides the actual RT66 (much of our trip involves riding slowly on a road just north or south of a road everyone else is using) they ride over a large solid white bridge that has a big satisfying arch and takes one over a sluggish muddy river. Having missed the Rt 66 fork and passed over the boring bridge, we parked at the road-side and walked across the white bridge. There, we heard the burp of a bull frog and stood still, looking onto the water. There we saw a swimming turtle and in the tall grasses, some sort of mole or beaver or something snacked on the foliage. It was idyllic.
Now we'e in Baxter Springs, which means that every time Ivo leaves the Inn, he returns with stories of other banks that were robbed and other bandits that were famous in the area. We walked around the town this afternoon and read the yellow plaques that, more often than not, describe that the building that once stood there burned down and was replaced by this brick structure.
We're staying in the Cafe on the Route Inn. It was formerly a bank, once robbed by Jessee James. We're in Cherokee county, folks and we're staying in a former bank. the hotel is as stark as last night's BnB was busy. White walls and bed sheets are where the Walnut St Inn would have put fancy cushions and lace doileys.
Tomorrow - Tulsa and this vegetarian's salvation. Halle-frickin'-luah.

Forgotten bits of IL and some more of MO

I feat that not blogging after day 1 on the road left bits of Illinois forgotten. So, quickly: There was a giant holding a rocket, yummy milkshakes and escarole soup, rivers, flat green gorgeous landscapes, big neon signs, giddy laughter in Normal, singing of Ben Folds in Effingten and new understanding of John Hughes in Sherman.

The other day, Landon said "I see a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches in your future." Oh, my cocky ignorance of Wednesday.
Yesterday's lunch was grilled cheese in a last minute - discovered GREASY spoon that stank of rancid grease and cigar smoke. It was in one of our guide books and there was nothing else around. So, if you're headed to St. Clair, pack a sack lunch.
Yesterday was another gorgeous day and it had an amazing start. We had breakfast in a cafe that is part of a green house. Enjoying berries in the company of greenery will be saved in my brain, to be called forth in the desert. Moments that are more challenging (ie hungry, cranky and without option in St Clair) can now be soothed with memories of the City Museum in St. Louis, MO.
I'm a bit of a wimp or a worrier, so the first sight of the museum, fenced by cement fangs and boasting a maze of chicken-wire tunnels outside the building that lead to school-buses positioned on roof-edges and an old gutted airplane, suspended, who knows how.
Inside the museum are chaotic, wet things, smooth things, rough things sounds. Children run, crawl and stare in awe. We walk through a room of sea creature sculptures and turtle tanks and up to stalagtited and stalagmited cave-like rooms. We climb stairs to a sudden smooth, still, empty room and walk past a soda bottle wall through two massive vault doors.
A man struggled on a wooden wheel, so I jumped in to help. Unfortunately, two other men jumped in at the same time and the wheel's momentum knocked me down. It had to happen. This place screams danger. (The paper wrist bands warn you of your own responsibility for your personal safety.) We wandered through an indoor carnival of sorts, slid down a long slide to find another cave and then ascended 10 stories of spiral steps next to "shoe chutes" left from the old factory, accompanied by an unusual organ. At the top, we slid down a twisted slide and I don't know when the dizzying, joyful laughter that followed left me in love with the City Museum.

On the road yesterday, lessons were learned about driving and navigating and less silos were seen as on previous days. There were many beautiful bridges and a crazy beautiful stretch of road called "Devil's elbow."
One of my favorite parts of the road was when Ivo nervously said "is that the car?". He turned down the radio and lowered his window to listen. "No." I said "those are the Cicadas!" We'd just been discussing the Cicadas and I thought that he knew that the increasing and decreasing rain-stick sound was those very insects. A number of them wound up on our windshield yesterday and their music was our soundtrack the whole way across Missouri.

Springfield - St Louis - Springfield

I'd imagined our road trip involving alot of knitting while Ivo drove, but have been mistaken so far. This trip is work after all. We need to keep informed about the route and experience of our cycling predecessor and I can't read in the car, so the trip thus far has involved a lot of Ivo reading aloud from Dres' manuscript and me driving (quite slowly - mostly 35 mph) along the gorgeous flat lands of Illinois.
On our first day we stopped in Joliet and visited their museum. (This turned out to be quite helpful, as we realized afterwards that Dres had made the same choice.) The museum appears to be well funded and we enjoyed their wax-works, short film and displays about all of the many accomplishments of Joliet residents.
Although I'm not proud, the Joliet patriotism reminded me of the characters in "Waiting For Guffman" and I discovered that the film song "Stools!" was in my head as I slowly made my way to the exit.  I then had to stifle laughter as I spied a massive display honoring Dairy Queen "Someday I'd like to invent a low-fat - a non-fat Blizzard...." Parker Posie in Waiting for Guffman popped back in my mind and I asked the enthusiastic woman at the desk "What's with all the DQ stuff?"
"The first-ever Dairy Queen is from Joliet!"
Of course it is.
When we were getting into the car, I asked Ivo "You know how you thought that it was strange, that Lizzie-" ( a girl I nannied in Philadelphia) "-thought that George Washington invented colors and the alphabet?" Ivo laughed. "I bet kids in Joliet think that the alphabet and colors were invented in Joliet."

There is an incredible pride in all of the towns we've visited so far and I feel a bit guilty that I'm hearing the towns' names for the first time. I'm personally feeling a certain sense of patriotic pride as we drive through amazing landscapes and encounter incredibly kind people. (When we took a wrong turn and were set on the right course by a jogger, we hadn't turned off our hazard lights before a 13 year old boy on a bike stopped to ask if we needed any help.)

The road from Bloomington to Springfield Il was driven when it was too dark to read, so Ivo took the wheel and we popped Assassination Vacation into the CD player. The timing was ideal. We woke in Springfield with a Vowell inspired hunger for all things Lincoln. We set to the rainy Sprinfield streets and found the Lincoln Totem Pole replica that our research had never mentioned but that our audiobook had described.
We then went to the Lincoln museum and presidential Library. It is another well-funded museum and we watched their movie "Lincoln's Eyes" and quoted the line "sockdolagizing man-trap" along with the Ford's Theater actor. Remembering Vowell's inquiry of what sort of "manipulative" the old word "sockdolagizing" describes.
The rain let up and we made tracks for Lincoln's tomb, where we rubbed his nose for luck, chatted at length with a volunteer at the tomb, and shivered in the cold marble that houses Lincoln's final resting place.
The next piece of 66 was speckled with beautiful silos, many wind-farms and less road-kill than the first. We had lunch at an old "famous" cafe (with crazy sweet pies) and then left the "mother road" in Mt Olive to find the grave of Mother Jones. (It was incredible and I'll post pics later)
We arrived in St Louis in the afternoon, driving over the Mississippi, narrowly avoiding an accident on the highway (finally allowed to go more than 35 mph and we nearly hit some drivers making silly mistakes) and gaping at the awesome sight of a massive Croquet Wickett.
We met our friend Landon and he took us for a drive (in case we'd not spent enough time in a car). We drove through two of the many large parks the city boasts. We then drove through the dilapidated North portion of the city. We drove past the train station/shopping mall that was featured in Escape From New York, past the court house where the Dredd-Scott decision was made and on to the park that surrounds the Jefferson Gateway Arch.
We mustered our courage and rode the tram to the arch's observation deck. Incredible! After taking the quicker trip down the arch, the doors opened to reveal what I thought was part of the Lewis and Clark exhibit, but turned out to be vacationing Menonite families. We took a gander at the actual Lewis and Clark exhibition and then drove back to the south side for dinner with Landon's girlfriend Alison.
Today we're headed to a unique museum and then on to Springfield, MO. NPR is currently reporting a smoggy day in St Louis and a flooding Missouri river in Lincoln County. We'll use care as we travel, listening for storms and watching out for the communities that Alison (a local gal) finds unique to central Missouri.

free car? no, free whisky!

This morning began with calls and emails to PR reps to get free stuff and ended with free whisky care of the hotel. In between there was breakfast in a cafe, lunch in an Indian restaurant and dinner at a mexican place.
I'll admit, I was sceptical about visiting the Tribune building today, but my dad had made a vague but convincing case for the "stones from all over" that are meant to adorn that building, so we went.
If we ever doubted that our friend Leksi was a fantastic tour guide, we shall doubt no more. We went to a used bookstore first thing. I got a book written by a man who drove a taxi after months and months spent in an ashram about dharma on the road. (Road trip reading!) Ivo got a travel book by a cyclist. Well done Leksi.
That afternoon, we approached the Chicago River and our tour guide pointed across, saying "There's that Wilco cover art from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot." Ivo and my gasps at the two towers were probably even more enthusiastic than Leksi had anticipated. A jaunt up the road revealed the Tribune building and we showed native Chicagoan Leksi, the very bricks my father had described. They were pretty darned cool and we looked at them all and read their plaques allowed to one another.
We raced a storm to the Chicago Art Institute and even had time to see the bean at Millenium park! Just after entering the museum, the skies opened up and we officially began our tour of Rout 66.
We three saw American Gothic, the Nighthawks and a number of other modern American pieces. It was truly amazing and the mood of the pieces and what they stirred in us has created an incredible start to our trip across America (the whisky and tamales/burritos didn't hurt either).
Tomorrow we will officially begin our tour at Grant park on the coast of Lake Michigan. (Hopefully in a car that was specially chosen by the rental company's PR people, but beggars can't be choosers.)