Americana Travels,
Pt 5: Amarillo to Tulsa
May 16th, 2012 – Exhausted. That’s what happens
to the mind and body when forced to endure the stress of car troubles on the
road . . . far, far away from home, missing a normal dinner due to said
vehicular mishaps, followed by a mere five hours of restless sleep, followed by
dealing with automotive people in two states. Yeah, Wednesday morning was the
morning that I was pretty much ready to pack in this (mis)adventure and head
back to the comforts of my own home.
I’m really starting to blame Samuel. Seriously . . . there
can’t be a coincidence that we found the little dude at the bottom of a pool in
Santa Fe, New Mexico. Some father of some brat probably got bit by a scorpion
while acting like a Sherpa in this particular hotel (no elevator for the second
floor residents) and got a nose bleed from the dryness of the high desert air,
all of which pissed him off to the point that he took out his frustrations on
the family and tossed the brat’s toy ring into the pool. He probably didn’t
recognize that it was the rings fault and the rest of his vacation was a
pleasant experience, albeit, a warning to the family that daddy quite possibly
has anger issues.
Or the ring is like that in The Lord of the Rings trilogy
and would be best served melting in the immense heat of a volcano.
Regardless of all this, Samuel is now in a safe place and
this day’s journey was rather exceptional.
We started off at 6:00am, Mrs. Pope was up to something
while I spent about a half hour trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. We washed
up and called AAA to get a tow truck over to the hotel to try and give us
another jump so that we could limp our way to the Honda dealership and,
hopefully, just a new battery. But, when Thomas the Tow Truck Man arrived and
tried to jump the car, the car gave us nothing. So, he strapped Harmony the
Honda onto the back of the truck, Mrs. Pope and I scrambled into the cab, and
the three . . . four of us weaved our way through the mean streets of Amarillo.
We then spent another few hours at the Honda Service Department waiting for the
work to be done, holding our breath that the diagnosis of the car would simply
be a dead battery and not something worse like a blown alternator or worse yet,
a completely fried electrical system.
The good
news came back and it was indeed an old battery . . . it looked to be the
original 2006 model from when the car was actually born. So . . . yay us!
Once we got
the car out of the shop, we drove to a local Starbuck’s for some much needed
caffeine and plotted out the day’s route. It was a pretty simple trek this time
out, just long . . . a ton of miles, but a generally straight line through the
Texas panhandle and across most of Oklahoma. We hit the road a little after
noon and hopped on the I-40 east. We were only on the freeway for a short while
before we stopped at one more site that had cars half buried in mud. This time
rather than tractors or Cadillac’s, we had VW Bugs nosed into a Texas field.
Really don’t get the Texan’s fascination with burying vehicles. You gotta
admit, it’s a weird fetish. This one, opposed to Cadillac Ranch, was a lot
easier to get to and much less crowded. We pulled off the freeway, jumped out
of the car, snapped a couple of photos, and were back on the road in less than
two minutes. No fuss, no muss!
We hopped
back on the I-40 east and drove for another fifteen or twenty miles and pulled
off the freeway to snap a photo of a leaning water tower. This guy was actually
built this way, not like the Leaning Tower of Pisa that is naturally falling
over. Someone had the brilliant idea to build the Leaning Tower of Water simply
because they could . . . my guess is that they were bored. I can’t imagine that
there’s a whole lot to do this far out of the nearest big town of Amarillo.
We then
drove for another half hour or so to the town of McLean, Texas. In between the
leaning water tower and McLean, we were surrounded by nothing but flat earth. I
looked in either direction of the freeway and could see the horizon stretching
forever, obscured briefly by the occasional farmhouse or herd of cattle. It was
absolutely amazing and beautiful in its simplicity. We pulled into McLean and
arrived at our next location . . . a restored 1929 Route 66 Gas Station. This
place was really cool, kinda’ had a Disney vibe, but it was neat to see the
place as it would have appeared if we were actually traveling way back in the
day. Mrs. Pope especially liked this stop and rattled off a bunch of photos . .
. I think one from every possible angle. I see a road trip of nothing but gas
stations in my future.
A few
minutes later, we were back in the car and headed along the freeway, trying to
stay relatively close to the posted speed limit. The last thing we needed was
to get pulled over for speeding in a state so far from home, especially Texas.
Heard rumors. Y’know? So, about a hundred miles or so of cruising from flat
plains to zipping past subtle fissures in the earth, Texas in all its beauty
became a blur. Somewhere between the Slug Bug Ranch and the Leaning Tower of
Water, we listened to discs 3 & 4 of my musical travels playlist, kept
company by the likes of Judas Priest (Heading Out To The Highway and Desert
Plains), Tracy Chapman (Fast Car), CSN&Y (Drive My Car and Wasted On The
Way), and a host of others to help pass the time. The lethal combination of a
32 ounce iced coffee and upbeat, high energy music had me punchy early,
air-drumming, air-guitaring, even breaking out the air trombone when necessary
. . . all in all, the playlist had me in a good groove. And soon, the blur that was Texas became a
blur called Oklahoma.
To tell the
truth, I instantly fell in love with the landscape of Oklahoma. I was expecting
nothing but farmland, much like what we had just seen grooving through Texas.
Someone take a snap shot of my surprised face as I was greeted by rolling hills
littered with copses of trees and dense areas of vegetation. Springs of water
here and there, and a general laid back feel to the whole place. We’ll get
there when we get there kind of attitude. Today’s drive, albeit long and
somewhat arduous, was also more laid back than the past cross state treks. We
made numerous stops for water and bathroom breaks, and Mrs. Pope was hell bent
on finding sour gummy bears (Sour Gummy Glo-Bears) like she had found in
California and Arizona, but alas . . . at the time of this writing, nothing
since Phoenix. We passed a motel whose claim to fame is that Elvis had stayed
there while passing through the town of Clinton. After a quick glance, I can
state with very strong confidence that Elvis did, indeed, leave the building
(badum-bump). We eventually made our way to the first Oklahoma stop in the town
of Hydro. This site was important in that the old Route 66 ran along the
current I-40 and, therefore, many little pieces of history still remain . . .
including another gas station that was built in 1927. This one wasn’t as
charming as the one in McLean, Texas, but a piece of history is still a piece
of history and pretty cool in that regard.
We both
needed a little break at around 4:00pm, so decided to stop at a gas station
that was sidled up next to a Sonic Drive-In. As I was pumping gas, I met a nice
elderly gentleman on his way back from Oklahoma City to Amarillo. We chatted it
up all nice-like, and I realized shortly after that people in this part of the
country are generally damn friendly. I’ve been called Sir more times in the
past two days on the road than I have in the past two years in my own hometown.
Is it a difference of city folk versus country folk? Unlikely. I’ve been in
cities the past two days and was still treated respectfully. Is it a West Coast
thing? Eh . . . I really don’t have the answer to that. I’ve heard rumors about
this, as well. Anyway . . . enough of this social commentary. Once I said my
good-bye’s and safe travel wishes to my new found friend, Mrs. Pope and I drove
over to the Sonic place and ordered up some grub. Neither of us had ever eaten
here before, and I think I need to have one of these built next to my house. Er
. . . maybe not. Then again, I might be forced to go to the gym more often if I
did eat there. Then again, I may die of heart failure if I exercise after
eating one of these gut bombs. Ach! The trials and tribulations of a burger
junkie!
About an
hour later, we were pulling into downtown Oklahoma City. We had a few stops in
this town that we wanted to hit before we made our way to Tulsa and our soft,
cushy bed of the night. The first stop was the Memorial site for the bombing in
which Timothy McVeigh cowardly took the lives of 168 people and wounding over
800 more. We didn’t get out and walk the Memorial, I didn’t need to. I felt the
same physical and emotional reaction when I sat at Ground Zero in New York City
while construction workers ate their lunches. In a way, I could hear the terror
in my head. I heard the anguish as we turned the corner onto Harvey Street.
That was enough pain for me. What was most shocking for me, as it was when it
originally happened, was the location. In the heart of Middle America. A small
town. An inconspicuous town. An unimposing town. Oklahoma City is a postage
stamp in comparison to places like New York City, Los Angeles, or Chicago. This
outrageous act felt more personal to me than sitting at Ground Zero . . . that
felt like a foreign attack and a strike in a waged war. This Oklahoma deal
feels so much closer.
Mrs. Pope
took the wheel from here on out, not because I was too emotional to drive, just
that I don’t do well with city traffic. There are times I want to get out of my
car and punch myself in the face, let alone those around me. So, with Mrs. Pope
behind the wheel and Jack doing most of the navigating, I added color
commentary and sang stupid songs. It’s what I do best. It’s one of my super
powers. We stopped by something that was supposed to be the World’s Largest
Mound, and yeah, it was a big green mound, but it looked like any other hill to
me, so we beat feet out of there and headed for a Gluten-Free cupcake shop that
Mrs. Pope had found. In about fifteen minutes, we were ordering some cupcakes
and returning to our rig for the final journey of the day.
We hopped
onto the I-44 towards Tulsa and passed through what we claimed as being the
most scenic and beautiful portion of the travel to date. Better than the Camp
Verde to Flagstaff run. Better than the jaunt through northern New Mexico, or
even Santa Fe. The trees covered the hills on both sides of the turnpike,
little creeks and larger rivers passed under the road and cut swathes through
the fields, even the random oil derricks didn’t completely offend me because
they were tucked away behind the trees and somewhat out of view. I wouldn’t say
I want to move there anytime soon, but it’s definitely a place that is worthy of
a few snap shots or day trips.
We finally
pulled up to the hotel at around 7:30pm, checked in, and then started plotting
and planning for the next week or so. We’re altering our trip a bit, in part
due to yesterday’s debacle of car issues and hotel apathy. It looks like we’re
cutting out Roswell (I don’t need to get probed anyway) and adding Wichita (I
mean, who doesn’t love Wichita . . . just saying it puts a smile on the face) and
adding another day in Kansas City (BBQ . . . I hear this place is known for its
masterpiece theater . . . again, Badump-bump). We ran amok through the lobby
and liberated a lot of drinking water and a banana, and I ate a pint of ice
cream for dinner . . . I really need to start thinking about a healthier diet
for the remainder of this trip. The bed is covered with crap, my fingers are a
little tired from typing, my head is tired from trying to be clever, and my
tummy hurts from ingesting a pint of ice cream.
I’m outta
here . . . see ya’ tomorrow!
Pope
Quote of the day: “I’m never going back to Amarillo. I will
go out of my way the rest of my life to avoid Amarillo. Just so we’re clear.
Sounds like armadillo anyway, and not in the funny way.” --
Mrs. Pope
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