Amarillo by morning

The day began, not surprisingly, by heading West. Again. After 1,300 miles, the monotony somewhat sank in. Once I was back on the road in the support Jeep, a little Train put me in the mood. (Side note: if you haven’t checked out their new album California 37, do it. Now). 

From Wichita Falls we headed towards Amarillo. What lie between those two destinations was truly very little. More beautiful countryside filled my field of vision for hours. Then came time for a lunch and refueling stop. Once we reached Amarillo, we picked up I-40 and stopped off. This lead us to a packed gas station. After fueling one vehicle, we continued West in hopes of somewhere less busy to stop and eat. 

Thirty minutes later, after miles and miles of deserted landscape, Dave chose the next exit that showed some semblance of civilization. It contained only one restaurant, a Dairy Queen. Now I’m not one to diss the ol’ DQ, but after so much traveling and fast food, it’s not my favorite. Hunger won though, and he headed for the door. A sign was perched upon the glass and read, “No credit cards accepted today.” Apparently it was a cash-only civilization.

Back on the road, we drove and drove, hunger slowly controlling my senses, until we found a truck stop. It was like an oasis atop one of those flat desert mountains, whatever those are called. This place was complete with gas pumps, Subway, and a free car museum. It also had a restaurant, which I wish I had known before eating Subway.

Sitting down to eat our subway in one of their restaurant booths, I used their Splenda to make sweet tea. It was still disgusting. I’ve heard war stories about Mexican water, but now I suppose I should warn you about New Mexican unsweet tea. 

(Side note: somewhere between Amarillo and the truck stop, we crossed over into New Mexico. This is simply an update for those less-than-astute readers). 

While eating my deliciously hand-prepared sandwich, I noticed the special in the restaurant was “Tomatoe Soup.” I wish I could make that up. Maybe the same people who make chicken ‘fingers’ crafted some tomatoe. I’m not entirely sure. I guess illiteracy is nationwide.

To stretch our legs a bit and spend a little time out of the car, we took advantage of the free car museum. It wasn’t a bad little collection. A mid-year Vette caught my eye, along with a few other Chevy’s. My favorite though was a C5, supercharged Lingenfelter Corvette. What a waste sitting inside collecting dust.

Once done with our sightseeing, it was back out on the open road. We decided to rotate around our driving duties to allow for some rest incase we drove further than anticipated. I took the helm of the 17-foot U-haul with car trailer attached. Jesse took the support Jeep, and Dave…slept. The next four hours were a blast, navigating the furniture moving shuttle. Though some of the rolling hills could have used some jet propulsion.

As we passed an exit sign that said Wagon Wheel in New Mexico, Dave promptly found that on his iPod, and we rocked it mama. Speaking of towns along the way, I’ve said it before, but there are so many reused city names. This trip I have passed by Ashville, AL, Canton, TX, Memphis, TX, and Raleigh, Somewhere. Not sure what state that was in, but come on folks, come up with some new names. Maybe, Kevinville or something. Just a suggestion.

Late in the day we made it to Albuquerque for a refueling mission. To refuel out vehicles, our stomachs, and souls. Once we were through the city, we found a bright shimmering light in the darkness, a Route 66 gas station. Inside, was Laguna Burger. The gas filled the cars, the fantastic handmade burgers filled our stomachs, and the graffiti on the bathroom walls filled our souls. The inspirational words and drawings will always be with us, along with that smell of simmering cow meat. Bless you bastion of hope for the weary travelers.

Once the stomachs were full, the trip began again. It was finally my turn to sleep, and so I opened my laptop and wrote down these words. Heading towards Flagstaff, AZ, the glow of the iMac filled the U-haul cab and Bob Seger played on the radio. We were just running against the wind.

It’s funny how music can sometimes fall into the trip on its own. Yesterday I was listening to Musta Got Lost and I passed a road sign that said Giles. Driving through Texas, Thunderstruck played. Driving through Mississippi, Song of the South played. (Even though it might’ve fit better in Alabama). Half way through Arizona, I pulled off an exit to stand on a corner, in Winslow.

A driving experience

Day 2 out on the open road was interesting. For lack of a descriptor, it was quite the driving experience. We left from Meridian and headed West on Interstate 20. The highlights were Jackson, Shreveport, Vicksburg, and crossing the great Mississippi River. (I wasn’t all that impressed). Our original destination was Dallas, but our eager souls pushed onward, finally resting for the night in Wichita Falls, TX.

Why was it a driving experience you may be asking yourself? Well, a series of events led to hilarity and a botched u-turn.

The first happened when our fearless leader in the U-haul missed the on-ramp for I-20. This led us up a dark Texas dead-end road. It was a scene out of that chainsaw movie, whatever it’s called, where they massacre people, in, um, Texas.

Once the dead-end was reached, the U-haul was in a precarious situation. With no where to go, I in the support Jeep, backed up, turned around, and blocked the road. This would surely deter anyone from coming to block us in, or murder us. Nonetheless, the path was cleared.

Dave proceeded to back the U-haul, with trailer attached, about 300 meters. I’m not sure exactly how far that is since in America we use don’t use the metric system, but let me tell you folks, it was quite the distance. While I waited, I ate a cold roast beef sandwich from Arby’s and laughed. It was dinner and a show.

The second instance came going through Dallas. While heading from one freeway to another to move on up to Wichita Falls, we got off of an exit. It was the type of exit, as the pilot of the support vehicle, I assumed was a refueling pitstop. However, I saw no gas station. We continued down this poorly lit two-lane road for a while, passing a Car Max and a few other miscellaneous businesses. Once we reached what seemed the end, only marked with a “10 MPH Curve Ahead” sign, I began to become concerned.

Sometimes long distances traveled can have an effect on people. Perhaps the leader was being affected by some kind of fatigue. Maybe it was an exhaust leak. I’m not sure but this was definitely not part of the trip, or so I thought.

I proceeded to call the leader, only to find out that not only the GPS, but the Maps on his iPhone assured us this was the way. A few miles later, we ended up on a major freeway. Only in Texas I suppose.

Good ol’ Texas. The moment we crossed the Texas line on I-20, the speed limit became 75 MPH. To me, this is just a subtle way of saying, “Welcome to Texas, land of freedom, drive as you wish.” There’s probably some truth to that.

Aside from the fantastic roads and speed limits, there were miles of open country. Cattle, cacti, and oil rigs could be seen. Not to mention the occasional wind farm. Apparently they grow wind there.

Last but not least, I drove on the President Bush Parkway. If only the country still was.