Americana Travels, Pt 8: Lawrence to Kansas City

Americana Travels, Pt 8: Lawrence to Kansas City

May 19^th, 2012 – Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow. Man, I woke up sore in places that I shouldn’t be sore. Back and shoulders, shoulders and back. Only thing that doesn’t seem to hurt are my eyelashes, and last I checked . . . they didn’t have nerve endings. But hey! I’m no doctor, so really . . . what do I know.

Woke up in Lawrence, Kansas, which is a good thing since this is where we went to sleep. As I mentioned, I’m sore all over and I can’t explain why, other than just wear and tear from driving. The beds have been comfortable all along the way, so I’m wondering if it’s one of those situations where ya’ just get so relaxed after a day of stress and the body just goes into rigor. I don’t know. Just theorizing. Anyway . . . big day today, but not really. We’re pretty much only driving a handful of miles to our next nights stay, but we’re cramming in a bajillion things to see.

Quick aside: Samuel has gone missing. After the whole Amarillo debacle, he simply . . . disappeared. I shit you not, folks. We didn’t chuck him into a river, we didn’t encase him in cement, we didn’t travel to Mordor and drop him in Mount Doom. He just vanished. We’re a little creeped out by the whole thing. Think about it for a sec . . . we found him at the bottom of a pool in Santa Fe, New Mexico, had car problems in Amarillo, Texas, the very next day and then lost sight of him en route to Tulsa, Oklahoma. We haven’t seen him since. Poor hapless bastard that picks him up . . . .

Alright, so the day kinda ‘ goes like this . . . after our typical morning routine of cleansing and packing, we went back to downtown Lawrence to get some more cupcakes (gluten-free, of course) and we stopped for some souvenirs. That took all of twenty minutes, and then we were back on the road in search of the Moon Marble Company located in the town of Bonner Springs. Just a stone’s throw from the banks of the Kansas River, this little marble company and oddball toy store sat in a non-descript shack of a building with a set of train tracks running mere feet from its back door. I’ve been in a number of toy stores in my life, but this one may very well have been the coolest of them all. We walked in to the store and were immediately informed that there was a marble making presentation going on at the moment and if we hurry, we can catch the last bits of it. We found the back of the store and there was a bleacher section that was constructed, and even featured a large screen television set showing a close up of the man’s work to those in the back. It was completely interesting as this guy stood there with some wands of something (it turns out it was glass) and a big ass torch. He kept putting the wands into the open flame and before long, dude created a marble. Apparently, this marble making thing is a big deal and falls under the category of art . . . we perused the cabinets with curiosity and saw tons of marbles, some elegant and intricately detailed, some made with far out colors, some simple and plain. But, after watching the demonstration, a new appreciation grew within me.

Of special note, we may have found out where Samuel came from in the first place:

We left the Moon Marble Company and made our way to Shawnee to see the All Electric House. Oh, before that, we stopped at Starbuck’s for some get up and go, and Mrs. Pope gracefully tossed half of her free refill all over the hood of Harmony the Honda. Now, I wouldn’t normally be telling you all this, but this is actually a rather important part of the story. The night before or earlier in the morning, it had apparently rained and left the rig covered in dirt. I mean, it almost looked like we’d gone mud boggin’ down by the river. So, Mrs. Pope pours almost thirty-two ounces of iced coffee on the hood of the car and announced emphatically that we had to get the car washed. For those who know Mrs. Pope, you know this had to be dealt with immediately. So, we bypassed the next two stops in search of the car wash and found one a few blocks from the All Electric House. Hehe . . . it was fun. I haven’t been in a car wash in like . . . I don’t know, a million years? So naturally, I documented the whole experience with our trusty camera. Watch below:

Practically felt like you were in the car with us, huh?

Okay, after the silliness was over, we checked into the All Electric House and found out that we had to pay an entrance fee to the Johnson County History Museum. I’m sorry . . . did someone say history? I love history. I love trying to pull myself out of modern times and imagine what life was like in the grainy photos lined across the walls of these places, or reading the stories and putting myself in the places that actually made history. I know, I’m weird, but y’all should know that about me by now. This museum was one of the better ones that I had been to in that it was really interactive, especially for the children who would come through on class trips or whatever. Here’s the shocker about Kansas . . . the state is heavy on agriculture. That should have been read with a little sarcasm. The museum, although it was laid out in a circular pattern, seemed to take up a lot of room, provide the guests with a ton of information, and, as mentioned before, was very interactive and edutaining. At 2:30pm, we were ushered into the All Electric House Tour. We sat and watched a short film on the history of the house and how it was marketed as the House of the Future . . . of course, in 1954, this house certainly was. We walked through the house and got see this structure completely refurbished with all of the original parts it had from 1954. There were some bizarre features to it, but some that were so awesome and cutting edge that they would have appeared sci-fi back then, and to this day, have a little of that campy sci-fi feel to it. Also, Mrs. Pope and I commented on this afterwards, the way the architect planned this little 1,100 square foot ranch-style house is underutilized with today’s architecture. How many times do we go into a new construction house and find electrical outlets in areas of the house that can’t be used or, worse yet, just not enough electrical outlets! In this day and age where we are so dependent on electricity to power our technology, why is it that a modern living room only has one electrical outlet? This 1954 model had electrical outlets every two feet around the floor moldings so that the furniture could be laid out in a multitude of different patterns. The coolest part was that the television/radio was hidden by a false painting behind an automated moveable screen. With the flip of a switch, the painting slid to the left and in its place was the television with a radio set built in. Just the coolest house . . . well, at least until we tour Bill Gates’ house.

From there, we went to Fritz’s hamburger hut or something like that. This was a cool restaurant and a little kitschy in that there were electric trains that ran around the ceiling perimeter of the place and dropped your order down a hydraulic lift to your table. I mean, how frickin’ cool, right! So, the deal is, you figure out what you want, you pick up the telephone handset that’s mounted at the table, you call in your order, and a few minutes later, a train comes hauling ass down the track above the line of tables and, with the aid of a blocker, drops the basket of food onto a stainless steel elevator, which then lowers to the table top. And the prices were so much cheaper than what we’re used to paying back home. A meal for three was about twenty bucks. I say three coz I ate enough for two people . . . double bacon cheeseburger and a hot dog, with some frings and a coke. If you’re ever in Kansas, I highly recommend a stop at this place for the novelty, and the food was decent enough for a Midwest burger stand.

Navigator Jack then led us towards Weston, Missouri . . . or at least, we thought that’s where he was taking us. Just after I made some grand announcement that Mrs. Pope was the pilot of this craft and Jack was the navigator, therefore, making me the co-pilot to act as a check and balance to the two of them, the electronic bastard took us to our hotel in Kansas City instead. It turned out alright since I needed to use the restroom and a breather from all of the traveling, but a few minutes after we got checked in, we were on the road again, and headed to Weston . . . for the World’s Largest Ball of String (Not Twine). We drove through some scenic areas of Missouri and much like Kansas before it and Oklahoma before that, I was impressed and a bit surprised at how beautiful the scenery was. Lots of trees, lots of fields growing something, lots of rolling hills and pastures. I’m not sure why everyone talks so much shit about this part of the country. Of course, I’m sure almost every state in the U.S. is beautiful in May.

We pulled into Weston, found a parking space next to the location of the Ball of String, and proceeded to wander around a parking lot for a few minutes trying to locate the monstrous ball of string. I was in the process of searching the internet with my phone when I saw a picture that looked familiar . . . I looked up, glanced around to get my bearings, and in the corner of a restaurant, I saw the Ball of String. We walked over towards it and recognized that it was in the outside seating area of a beer garden, and when Mrs. Pope asked if I wanted a drink, I immediately responded with a “Hell yes!” So we were seated in the outdoor seating area, two tables away from the Ball of String, with two parties between us . . . a long haired mechanic and his gawking family, and a leathered and cragged face family chain smoking through all courses of their meal. We ordered a couple of salads, and I surprisingly ate the whole thing despite having consumed a massive lunch. The beer was excellent! When the mechanic and his family got up to leave, I snapped a quick photo of the ball, and a short while later, paid the bill and took a quick drive through the rest of Weston. Cute town. Desolate town.

Mrs. Pope wanted to load up on wine for the remainder of our trip, especially since we weren’t planning on leaving Kansas City until Monday morning, so we drove around looking for a liquor store. Navigator Jack led us to Leavenworth, Kansas and the nearest liquor store. Mrs. Pope picked out three bottles of red wine and we then proceeded to make our way back to the hotel. We got in at just about 8:00pm and Mrs. Pope started working on the pile of laundry that we have amassed, and I, I of course started working on the blog.

And here it is, twenty past nine and I’m practically done. Looks like I’ll get some reading time in before I hit the sack.

We’ll see you folks tomorrow!

Pope

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”  --  Pope

Americana Travels, Pt 7: Wichita to Lawrence

Americana Travels, Pt 7: Wichita to Lawrence

May 18^th, 2012 – Let’s see how many Wizard of Oz references we can make while we’re here in beautiful, scenic Kansas. Every dog was referred to as Toto, which then got me thinking about the rains in Africa. Every little old lady was named Auntie Em, which then had me craving M&M’s in all of their chocolate-y goodness. In all, there’s not whole lot to Kansas.

We got on the road fairly early by our standards; I think I glanced at the clock at around 10:30am. That means that we had eaten breakfast, showered, finished our last minute packing, and checked out within an hour and a half. Not too shabby. As our norm, we fueled up on both caffeine and petrol as we were making our way out of town. Mrs. Pope plotted the course from Wichita to Lawrence, Kansas, with our various stops along the way. Today was supposed to be one of the more grueling treks despite our shaving three or four hours off of it the day before and with the added stay in Wichita. Physically, I was drained and sore in places, mentally; I was geared up and ready to do this thing, even though I started off the day by walking into more than one wall and/or door jam.

We connected with the I-135 headed north through the heart of Kansas. Today’s main site was the center point and original inspiration for this trip in the first place . . . Cawker City and the World’s Largest Ball of Twine (Not String).Cawker City is located in downtown Nowhere. It’s the Center of the Universe of Nothing. The wild thing, though, is that there are roads that lead to Nowhere. Despite the severe wind warning that was in effect and Mrs. Pope’s research on tornado possibilities, we cruised up the I-135 for about an hour and a half, then cut west for about another forty minutes along highway 18. This stretch of road was just a swathe across farmland. There was barely any civilization, unless you count the herds of cattle that wandered along the pastures. It was, however, beautiful and serene. We listened to one of the books on CD, The Innocent by David Baldacci, and while I followed the story of the characters I watched the wind gust over the fields of grain on either side of the road. The way the fields rippled, it actually took on the appearance of water flowing across the great expanse. I finally got a better understanding of the lyric, “ambers waves of grain”. Wheat having that amber hue to it, rippling in the wind like waves of an ocean, and grain being what it was . . . that lyricist was a frickin’ genius.

About forty minutes along the 18, we found one of the sites that we had been talking about finding . . . a bunch of farm equipment that the land owner turned into dragons and other wild creatures. The site description sounded way too cool to miss out on, so we added this site on the way to see the Ball of Twine. As we pulled around a corner of the highway, navigator Jack informed us that our site was to the right, and it was . . . but nowhere near as cool as we were hoping it would be, nor as it was described. The original description was of a sixty foot dragon . . . the creature we saw and snapped a photo of was maybe sixteen feet, at most. It was still pretty cool looking and a creative outlet for the outskirts of Nowhere U.S.A., so we’ll give this guy a nod of appreciation.

We continued down highway 18 and a few miles later, we turned north on highway 14 and were pretty much the only vehicle along this stretch of lonely road. Farms and ranches on either side of us, rolling hills, more waves of grain, cows looking up at us with barely an ounce of interest as we passed by . . . it was all good. This was probably my favorite stretch of road through Kansas. We eventually came to the town of Beloit where we had to slow the vehicle practically to a crawl due to the posted speed limit, and we inched along the sleepy streets of this non-descript Midwest town. We stopped to top off the tank and use the restrooms, and it was here that I had my first flash of being an outsider in a small town. I got a vibe from one of the other motorists who was fueling up, not the typical friendly banter that we’d experienced in other parts of the country. This guy barely acknowledged my existence, and then I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the gas pump . . . sunglasses, unshaven face, long hair blowing around all crazy under my fishing hat with rock n’ roll pins and patches on it . . . yeah, fuckin’ California hippies were invading the Heartland and preparing to ruin everyone’s family values, or some discriminatory thought like that. Then, I saw a cop drive up. I just had images of Footloose strobing through my skull, so I quickly bee-lined my way to the restroom, did my business, and returned to the outside world with my hair pulled back. I don’t mind attention, just not THAT kind of attention. In fact, I passed the cop as I was exiting the building and he greeted me with a friendly “Hello”, but I still wasn’t gonna take any chances. Time to beat feet and get to Cawker City.

We traveled on the 24 west for about half an hour and eventually pulled into the one horse town of Cawker City. Actually, that’s not totally fair to the horse coz we never saw one and the town probably couldn’t have managed one anyway. The wind was kicking up at something like forty miles per hour, the nearby lake had white caps breaking across the water’s surface, and the temperature was hovering around ninety degrees. We found the Ball of Twine camped out underneath an awning; actually, it had its own little home. There were dedicated benches to it on four sides of the ball and we snapped a few photos of the piece of Americana that brought us half way across our nation. We reflected on the shabby state of the town, the lack of life, and wondered just how vibrant life had been in Cawker City in the first place. It looked like it might have been something special thirty, forty years ago, but now, the sidewalks are crumbling, the yards are growing more weeds than grass, a lot of the buildings appeared to be boarded up and vacant. Without seeing any of the residents of the town, it was hard to judge what exactly kept the bills paid. But, the Ball of Twine was really cool to see.

We got back in the rig and drove east towards Manhattan, Kansas where we were to visit with the statue of Jonny Kaw. I fought the wind for another eighty plus miles across the plains and pastures of Kansas, passing herds of cows that looked like they were huddled up to battle the wind. We continued listening to the adventures of Will and Julie in The Innocent, and it helped distract us from the repetition of pasture, pasture, cow, farm house, pasture, pasture. We pulled into the Little Apple (Manhattan, Kansas) near 4:00pm and found a parking lot right next to the towering behemoth of Jonny Kaw. The legend of Jonny Kaw is very similar to that of Paul Bunyan, in that Kaw was a created character who was said to have created the Kansas geography with a giant scythe instead of wielding a lumberjack’s ax. I found this big dude to be another great piece of Americana, and I had never heard of him before we started planning this trip . . . of course, if we hadn’t planned on coming to Kansas, I probably still wouldn’t know this character existed.

From Manhattan we traveled to the Kansas state capital, Topeka. It was about a forty minute trek east of Manhattan, and when we pulled into Topeka, we found our final site of the day’s adventures. Truckhenge! Truckhenge had the potential of being so much cooler than it was, and the back story of this place has a rather fascinating bend to it, but when we arrived, the place was fenced off and we could only see a few pieces of this odd and bizarre lawn art. Apparently, the guy who owns the land of Truckhenge is a little left of center, as so many of the great artistic types can be, and much of the message of the site is a giant middle finger aimed in the direction of the Shawnee County Government. I can appreciate that. Gotta love the rebel when he’s fighting for his freedom of expression . . . especially on his own land. Anyway, I was able to rattle a couple of descent photos of the site through the chain link fence, and as it turns out, we could have called the owner and odds are he would have rushed over, let us walk through, and talked our ears off . . . in fact, we’d probably still be there and you wouldn’t be reading this at all. One thing of note was that this place was off on a dusty old dirt road lined with trees and tucked far enough off the main road that if we had disappeared, we would never, absolutely never been found. I was actually expecting to walk around the car and have some dude in an old school hockey mask chopping me into jerky with a chain saw. Fortunately, that didn’t happen and we were able to continue this epic road trip.

We pulled into Lawrence, Kansas, home of the University of Kansas, and checked into our hotel with the sun still up and dinner possibilities aplenty. We spread our stuff throughout the room and then found a burger joint that was super all natural and even had gluten-free buns for Mrs. Pope. This was one of my contributions to the day coz, and yes, I’m taking full credit, I found the place while searching for our night’s dinner possibilities. We ate and then decided to walk through the downtown area, which happened to be a block over on Massachusetts Street. Folks, this was a cool and hep street! Very college oriented and fun. Good places to eat, drink, shop, and well . . . be a kid! Mrs. Pope found a cupcake store called Billy Vanilly’s and I used my record store app that my brethren, Racer X, turned me on to called The Vinyl District. This little app led me to a store called Love Garden Sounds and yes . . . they had tons of vinyl LP’s . . . more than CD’s and some quality titles that I hadn’t seen in a long time, or if I had, the prices were through the roof. The prices at this joint were fair and I walked out with a bag while my patient wife texted Racer to get me out of there. Yeah . . . like a little text would really help in that situation.

From there, we walked back to our hotel room and we kicked back at a reasonable hour for once. I wrote all of these neat words that you’ve been so kind to take the time to read, and Mrs. Pope researched more stuff for us to tackle along our trip. Now . . . well now, my friends, I’m calling it. I have a few moments before it’s time to turn in and may do some reading . . . or possibly drooling over my new vinyl finds!

‘night!

Pope

Quote of the Day: “Hey . . . did you know that May is the worst month for tornadoes in the Plain States?”  --  Mrs. Pope

Americana Travels, Pt 6: Tulsa to Wichita

Americana Travels, Pt 6: Tulsa to Wichita

May 17^th, 2012 – When I get back to San Diego, I plan on sleeping for about a week . . . or until I drive up to the Bay Area a few days later. Hell . . . that trip will feel like two minutes after this trek across the U.S.!

We woke up in Tulsa, Oklahoma at around 9:00am. We quickly showered, ate our last muffins from Revolution Bakery in Santa Fe, and checked out. We were on the road at 10:45am and loading up with flats of water from Walgreen’s, and a few minutes later, we were fueling up at Starbuck’s, the unofficial sponsor of Road Trip 2012. We had to load up with flats of water because the hotel we stayed at oddly enough had no free water for us. I say oddly because the traditionally dry markets such as California, Phoenix, and New Mexico gave us water freely . . . as did Texas! Oklahoma gave us nothing. Not that it’s Oregon or Washington and dowsed in perpetual wetness, but they could have sprung for a community pitcher in the common area. When we asked about water, we were told to take it from the tap in our room. The tap? From our room? Wow . . . with customer service like that, well . . . I’m sure I can take pointers from that. Anyway, Oklahoma was basked in 90 degree heat, so those flats of water were beyond essential.

Today was a much needed shorter run than the past few days across the country. But still, it seems like we packed in a ton of stuff in fewer hours. Our first stop of the day was a few miles from the hotel, but then again, I suppose everything in Tulsa is a few miles from the hotel. The first stop was to Oral Roberts University. We followed Jack’s directions, weaving and winding in the southern region of Tulsa, and came across these two huge hands clasped together in prayer. Directly in front of the university at the main entrance, these two hands greeted us as we pulled into the adjacent parking lot. The hands were way cool, but there was one negative to the whole experience. Geese. Wild frickin’ geese waddled around the statue freaking me out to no end. I mean, it’s not like I’m afraid of geese on a conceptual basis, it’s more of what I’ve witnessed in watching America’s Funniest Home Videos when hapless wing-nut’s get bitten in the junk by wild geese. I didn’t want to be one of those hapless wing-nuts, so I kept a discreet distance from these fowl beasts and let Mrs. Pope snap the photos for the statue.

A few minutes later, we plotted a course to the America’s Largest Buddhist Deity Statue. We had to travel east again, actually pretty damn close to the hotel we had just checked out of. En route to the statue, we passed about a million and two churches, and found ourselves in a more secluded region of the town. We were cruising along the road as directed by co-pilot Jack . . . wait, actually, I think Jack is the navigator . . . which makes me the co-pilot. Doesn’t it? Judges? Okay, so as were we following the road, we came upon a dude in a hard hat and reflector vest (no, it wasn’t one of the Village People), and he re-directed us around the block because there was a fire that had broken out right in front of us. Kinda’ shocking, but we were flexible and followed the new directions around the block. We eventually pulled into the Buddhist Sanctuary that called this monstrous statue home. We felt a little weird pulling into this place because we thought we might be offending the folks there, so we made a quick u-turn and pulled out of the sanctuary. That didn’t stop us from snapping a couple of photos of the big guy. It was really cool looking as this big white monstrosity was staring east, head just hovering above the tree line. Take a look . . . dude is cool!

We then headed towards downtown Tulsa to see the Sonic Center of the Universe. After driving around in circles for awhile, we finally found a place to park mere steps from the apex of a bridge that crosses over a set of railroad tracks. In the center of this bridge, it’s rumored that you can stand there, speak out loud and hear your voice in your head. Mrs. Pope heard it and got a little dizzy. I didn’t hear squat, but I did feel a little dizzy. It was still pretty cool to see.

From there, we made our way west and our new stop along the trek, Wichita! We had one stop to make first before we hit the open road and the state of Kansas. One of the more unique oddities on this trip was a burial ground in the middle of a strip mall. We pulled into the parking lot and rattled off a couple of photos, and it was definitely one of the more bizarre things we’ve seen . . . a piece of history mixed in with modern real estate, a contrast of times and cultures.

We took off a few minutes later and headed west on 51 to the town of Stillwater. We loaded up on some more coffee and powered through the next forty-five miles, watching trees, pastures, and lakes zip by. That trek seemed to drag on a bit, but fortunately we had a book on CD that helped while away the miles. Before too terribly long, we were on the I-35 and headed north towards Kansas. We stopped for some more coffee coz after another hour on that strip of highway, we were both getting a little dozy. We pulled off at the final scheduled site of the day . . . a semi standing on its nose in a field just off the road. We grabbed some more coffee and snapped a photo of this peculiar beast, and then continued the journey north.

We crossed the Kansas state line and in about fifty minutes, we were pulling into the parking lot of the hotel on the outskirts of Wichita. We checked into our hotel and Mrs. Pope immediately scoped out a place to get a pedicure and massage. We jammed over to the spa and Mrs. Pope got her feet done, and I was planning on just camping out with a book until her session was over. Well, suddenly I was informed that the masseuse was on her way back specifically to tackle my session . . . nothing wrong with that service! So, a half hour later, I was rubbed down and relaxed.

From there, we took off for dinner and ended up at the River City Brewery in Old Town Wichita. The beer made me more loopy than I would have expected and dinner was awfully tasty. Mrs. Pope had the top sirloin and I had the house chicken mac and cheese. We had a great waitress that we chatted up, and much like the rest of the people along this trek, was absolutely friendly and glad to have us experiencing her state. We then returned to our hotel room and called it a night.

Exhausted again. I think that’s been the theme of this vacation. Exhausted. Tomorrow will have us trekking even more thoroughly through Kansas, so stay tuned for the experience of a life time.

Pope

Quote of the day:  “You know what we just did? We just navigated Wichita!”  --  Pope

Americana Travels, Pt 5: Amarillo to Tulsa

Americana Travels, Pt 5: Amarillo to Tulsa

May 16^th, 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

Americana Travels, Pt. 4: Santa Fe to Amarillo

Americana Travels, Pt. 4: Santa Fe to Amarillo

May 15^th, 2012 - Hi ya’ll, Mrs. Pope here. I’m starting the blog tonight, since Pope is in a corner rocking and drinking. We are not fans of Texas at this point. Not. At. All.

Shortly after crossing over Texas state lines, my car stopped working. Yep, you read that right, my car, the wonderous Harmony Honda, who had not one but two check-ups before we embarked on this trek, the car who has never broken down on me even once in seven years, the car I often refer to as magical, that one, she decided to stop working now, just outside of Amarillo. Keep in mind I drive 50 miles every day for work, all over San Diego County, to and fro, back and forth – the car could have stopped working anywhere at home, and I would have had a second car, a friend, a co-worker, friends’ parents, my Honda Guy at E’dido Honda, and even a couple of enemies, who could have helped. But no. Amarillo. Texas. Five trillion miles from home. Yep.

Okay, so first, let me do the “It could have been worse” litany, because ya’ll know that’s what I do. We had stopped to see “Tex Randall, Big Texan” in Canyon, TX, about 20 miles outside Amarillo --  a giant statue of a fading cowboy. Up until that point, we had been having a great day! Fun, fun, fun at every turn, great travels, lots of laughs, and I even had the damning thought earlier in the day: the car is doing just great on this trip (I know, I know).

We took a bunch of photos of Tex and be-bopped the few steps back to Harmony, jumped in, and .  .  .  nothing. After the requisite, “No . . . no . . . no . . . this isn’t happening,” and shaking my head and closing my eyes a bunch of times, hoping that something would be magically different each time I opened them, we called Triple AAA. Which brings me to the first expression of gratitude:  Thank God we have Triple AAA. We also have the uber membership (Gratitude 2) that comes with 100 miles free towing. And Thank God our dog Skyler was not with us (Number 3), because I would have been hysterical with the “what ifs” worrying about his safety.

Triple AAA dispatched a nice man in a tow truck, but he took over an hour to get to us – apparently it was not a good night for car functioning in Amarillo – and during this hour we were grateful for: (Number 4) Being in a vacant lot off a frontage road next to Tex, not in the shoulder on a freeway. (Number 5) Having cell phone service, which I do believe was a bit of divine intervention, because I swear I had no bars before the car died. (Number 6) It was daylight, which was amazing since this all went down from 7:30-8:30pm. (Number 7) It was clear skies, sunny, not too hot, with a good breeze. (Number 8) We looked to be in a safe residential area, with a little girl riding her bike in her yard not far away, and the sound of womens’ laughter coming from one of the houses nearby. (Number 9) We were under a highly recognizable landmark; Rescue Dude would have no trouble finding us. And (Number 10), there was not a zombie apocalypse occurring. And the Number 11 Expression of Gratitude was that Rescue Dude jumped the battery and we were on our way again – whew!

And now for the bitching, griping, and “Really? Seriously?” portion of the night. We went straight to the hotel (lest we stop and the battery die again) and got so ridiculously, completely, forlornly, pathetically, and epically lost. Really? Seriously? Even calling the hotel for directions proved unhelpful. We resorted to driving up and down the frontage road of the 40, until angels flew down from heaven and formed an angelic circle of light as a beacon in the sky right above the hotel. Okay, I may have been hallucinating at that point. Pope was driving.

And we got to the hotel, got a parking space right in front under a lamp despite the entire parking lot being full (Thank you Lucky Parking Gods), turned off the car, tried to turn it back on . . . and nothing. Sigh. So now we are stuck in the hotel, eating canned soup (Mrs. Pope) and frozen burritos (Pope) from the hotel vending room, and planning to (yay!) get up at 6am to have the car either jumped or towed to Honda Amarillo, for what we are hoping will just be a battery replacement. Stay tuned.

So it looks like The Pope has been fortified by the burrito, and is able to type coherently now, so I will let him finish this up.

Howdy y’all. Yeah . . . I’m recovered a bit from the trauma of Amarillo, but in truth, it all really could have been a lot worse. Let’s go back to how this whole day started off, shall we?

We awoke in Santa Fe at 9:00am, did our showering thing, loading up the rig thing, checking out of the hotel thing, and hitting the road at just before 11:00am. We returned to Revolution Bakery to pick up our order of muffins, and they failed me on the whole jalapeno insertion. Slightly disappointed, but it wasn’t a deal breaker, and . . . I found out that they ship! WooHoo! We headed out of town after loading up on coffee and fueling the rig for the long haul across the eastern face of New Mexico.

First though, we had a stop just to the south of Santa Fe at one of the many State Parks. We were looking for these things called Tent Rocks, which are some volcanic phenomenon where these rocks are formed to look like tents (hence the name). We were let down a bit when we found out that this was actually a hiking site rather than a simple drive by snap shot from the car window site. So . . . we enlisted Jack’s assistance on getting us out of town and to the various sites between Santa Fe and Amarillo.

I found the trip across New Mexico to be amazing. Yeah . . . it was desolate with very few buildings along the 285, but I was alright with that. Watching the ranch land blur by, we were practically the only vehicle on the road. Simply beautiful. Kinda’ serene. Quasi-peaceful.  And then, I watched Mrs. Pope almost die. No . . . not in the serious sense of the term. We were listening to a comedy CD from a character named John Pinette and part of his routine, which had some damn hilarious parts to it, damn near killed my wife. She was laughing, then practically hyperventilating, then crying, then laughing again. And then it almost happened again. I’ve never heard Mrs. Pope laugh so hard during a comedy bit before, and then to have her cracking up multiple times, well . . . it almost hurt my feelings.

                                         Mrs. Pope says buy this now. Track 8. Listen.

From there, we picked up the I-40 east and tore through the countryside toward Texas. Near 4:00pm, we pulled off the freeway in a little town called Tucumcari for a cup of coffee to aid us along our way. My advice to fellow travelers . . . don’t stop in this town. Unless, of course, you want to see a Highway 66 monument or stay in a seedy roadside hotel or inn. We stopped at a Circle K because Starbucks had the good sense to stay out of this one horse town. Let that be a lesson to you, kiddies . . . if it’s too low brow for Starbuck’s, it’s too low brow for you.

A few miles after picking up the I-40 again, we were entering Texas, and a new time zone. Central Time. Yay. Let me try to hold back my enthusiasm as I roll my clocks forward an hour. It’s like daylight savings time multiple times in one week. It’s weird and I don’t like it.

About an hour later, we pulled up to our first Texas stop . . . Cadillac Ranch. You’ve all seen the pictures in the past. The butt end of a bunch of Cadillac’s sticking out of the ground. We pulled off the freeway and hiked across this field to get a better view of this incredible oddity. In truth, I didn’t think the Cadillac’s were all that odd, I was more disturbed by the mass of people returning to their tour bus. It was disturbing because at that particular moment, I was assisting Mrs. Pope walk across the uneven muddy terrain, so was making sure that she wasn’t suddenly wallowing around in the mud. Or cow pie., as those suckers were prevalently littered across the field. I looked up and saw this throng of people stumbling towards us and had a quick fear of the zombie apocalypse. Once I realized that none of them were slack jawed from being undead (there were other reasons for that), I relaxed some, but still . . . we walked to the opposite side of the path just in case. The whole site was pretty damn cool. Apparently people were allowed to bring cans of spray paint to leave their mark on one (or more) of the half buried vehicles, and during all of this . . . in the distance were packs of roving cows, slowly chewing away on wads of grass, or whatever it is that cows gnaw on. So . . . pretty much at any point, I could have walked around a Cadillac and been attacked by a cow.

We left Cadillac Ranch and made our way to a giant pair of legs standing in another field. Again, weird. Texas is just weird. And then, well . . . you’ve read Mrs. Pope’s account of what happened at the next stop. Stupid Texas.

So . . . there you have it. We got back to the hotel room in time for me to watch the end of the Kings game as they whitewashed the Phoenix Coyotes. Now . . . well now, I shall go to sleep, for tomorrow . . . yes, tomorrow is nearly upon us, and tomorrow will be a long, long day.

Thanks for reading. ‘night!

Pope

Quote for the day:

“What the *!@# is happening. Are you !?**@# kidding me right now? --  Mrs. Pope

And a final P.S. from Mrs. Pope: What was that Pope said in yesterday's entry about  Samuel? And I quote, "If anything goes wrong from here on out . . . it’s his fault." Huh. Should we return him to the bottom of the pool in Santa Fe to appease the Gods? Let's see how tomorrow goes. . .