“You’ve been a travelin’ man this summer!” my wife said. Yup. I hate to leave her, but she’s right, and I do dig it: this will make four one-week trips away from Taos since early June, one to ZoukFest in Albuquerque and three to Austin.
On Wednesday morning I head out for Sweetwater, TX by a most devious route, taking a lonely road from Las Vegas, NM to Tucumcari, hitting the Interstate to Amarillo, TX, and then dropping south through Palo Duro Canyon to Turkey, TX (home of Bob Wills!) and proceeding on down Rt. 70 into Sweetwater. Those rural Texas highways are a wonder: 70 mph everywhere, even when that’s too fast, and I’ll bet I don’t have to pass a single vehicle until the next day on my way to Austin. (Beats bloody hell out of watching semis rolling side-by-side while traffic stacks up behind, I tell you what…)
I don’t know why everybody doesn’t plan their trips this way, but I’m glad they don’t. I pretty much hate Interstate highways and use them as little as possible, preferring to be able to stop whenever I want to take pictures, make a cup of coffee, or take a whiz. There’s just something about standing beside a quiet, empty highway in the middle of nowhere, relieving myself beneath a big blue sky, that says “AMERICA” to me!
Unless an ocean is involved, I doubt I’ll ever fly again. I hated flying well before we turned the country into a mass of sniveling cowards to protect ourselves from idiots with exploding underwear—you’ll note that didn’t work—so driving is the only way to go. But as much as I love to drive, I think I like stopping even more. I’ll stop for anything: historical markers, strange animals, weird local food, photo opps, a shady spot to clean the windshield… All of which takes time, it’s true.
You could make the same drive on major roads and save a couple of hours, but then you’d miss out on the existential thrill of being semi-lost out on the prairie and wondering if you’ll get to the motel by midnight. (It’s a good thing I always have food with me, because I usually arrive after everything is closed.) This kind of travel isn’t possible with a wife, at least not mine, unless you trick her. To do that honestly, though, you first have to fool yourself:
“Amarillo in five hours? EASY!”
(But not the way I’m going to go…)
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I’m really very lucky. This stuff is gasoline in my tank.
{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
Seems funny how a story like this doesn’t generate many comments…. I just drove 530 miles through Colorado in my old pickup truck, and hardly ever got above 55 miles an hour. I saw mountains, I saw sky, I say animals, heard great (truly great, not just endless repeats of the Steve Miller Band) classic rock on the radio, and had a great frickin’ time. I was the one the other traffic stacked up behind, and I didn’t give a damn. The only glitch came when the only way to get from point A to point B was to take the interstate. Blah. Good thing that leg of the trip was at night.
Remarkable what happens when you slow the hell down.
I’m right there with ya, buddy.
Chipper! I posted this late last night. There’s bound to be a few more comments…
Glad to see you had your getaway trip. Sounds like it was personally restorative. I find that road trips almost always are, if taken the way we’re talking about here. Dodging trucks and droning along all day on the Interstate leaves me vibrating and totally weird, but doing it like this doesn’t do that.
And guess what? One reason I picked the route I’m taking is because it goes through Turkey, TX. I just liked the name, right? But I googled and found it’s the home of BOB WILLS! There’s even a museum, and yes, I’m stopping.
Cool! Turkey, TX! Gotta love it. On my trip I stopped at the greatest damn car show I’ve ever seen in Alamosa, Colorado; and at the “Colorado Gator Farm” in Hooper, Colorado… awesome! I got to hold a gator, man!
And as far as my observation that stories like this don’t generate many comments… I guess what I was talking about is that America seems to be all about faster Faster FASTER these days, and if you talk seriously about slowing down (I really meant that I hardly got over 55 mph… hell, most of the time I set my cruise control for 50!) folks look at you like you’re retarded. That’s no real problem for me… if people want to zoom by and not see a damn thing, it’s their loss… and you wouldn’t believe how much gas I saved at that speed! Oh well… we gotta take a road trip together sometime, dude. And for the record… I like the windows down, too.
I’m fucking jealous. You got to hold a gator. Have yet to visit the gator farm, dammit.
i’m even MORE fucking jealous!! ^_^
that’s it – when i’m finally free of the whole situation i’ve been trapped in here for the last decade (you know all about it already so i won’t go into personal stuff here), i’m taking a slow roundabout road trip to visit you there in NM (about damn time too – we’ve been email buds since the applelinks days!). maybe it’ll help me remember what it’s like to be a human being again (instead of the withdrawn sleepwalking zombie state i’ve had to maintain just in order to function without completely breaking down or going postal). of course at the rate things are going it’ll probably still be a few years away.
John,
Is that picture at the top of the mesa on 209, south of Tucumcari?
No, that’s taken just east of Roswell!
cool, it sure is green.
I can see the UFOs in the background.
Since you’ll be in Turkey, go about 10 miles to Quitaque and see Caprock Canyon. It’s very beautiful.
http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us/spdest/findadest/parks/caprock_canyons/
I certainly will, Stephen, and thanks for the tip. (I already know it’s pronounced “kitty-kay”)…
Have you ever been the the Allbates Flint Quarries north of Amarillo? Native Americans loved trading for the rainbow flint.
As a little kid age 5 I lived in Amarillo for a year. It was where I started school first grade but didn’t complete, when the siren song of Abilene beckoned to my parents. Anyhow, I remember a Sunday afternoon after church when we went for a drive down into the Palo Duro Canyon, which seemed stupefyingly vast to me at the time. The years have rolled. I hope to see the Palo Duro again before I die.