Driving the Southwestern U.S. isn’t bad if you like straight roads, hot weather (this time of year), and invariable landscapes. One might trade adventure for boredom, by choosing the I-40 instead of the more scenic Route 66, which unofficially no longer exists thanks to the straight, 75 mile per hour Interstate that hacked it apart as well as everything culturally interesting along-side. The 66 was once a haven for shops, good ole boy trucker cafes, and, relatively speaking, slow and scenic travel (I say relatively speaking because at 2 thousand + pounds a car going 55 miles per hour isn’t exactly slow, it’s just 2010 slow). The more mellow limit did, however, afford a casual view for back ‘seaters’ to click photographs of the dust bowl’s Mother Road and even front ‘seaters’ (we’ve all seen what happens when we get caught up with road scenery thanks to Chevy Chase’s offroad excursion in Vegas Vacation).
Because the 40 follows the snaky main street of America for a bit, I saw the old structures that once bustled along 66 in their now decrepit squalor state, boarded from the floor on up, and their contents now all conglomerated into one ‘Fort Courage’ “the biggest Indian Trading Post in the World.” With all the blessings of our more rapid Information Age, we have left the trip to the birds the only love for the modern road traveler is arrival.
Am I there yet?
I can’t stop on this 'speedway' to take pictures very easily so I won't ‘yuk you up’ about great views, no ‘kicks' on my Route 40. Instead, I fly through the Flying J rest stop and Casino with a Subway inside, make good time, and forget about the Indian Trading Posts (all evaporated along the 66 anyway). My two, sometimes three, lanes in each direction, monster eschews my ‘adventure’ and I’m dozing off at the wheel. I constantly banter at the window glass keeping myself awake. The new adventure: finding the best gas price.
Golden Road Rule #1: gas is always cheaper at the next stop, just when you think you’ve got the best price. It seems to work like this: Pass the 1st and 2nd exit, be wary of the 3rd but pull in to the 4th… or was IT the 3rd? It usually means the difference between $2.36 and $3.89. And the secret to this road is that Shell consistently beat the competition. That is to say, although the Shell stations don’t coincide even varying quite a lot, they always seem to cheaper than other stations, at least on I-40 & 20.
Cheapest gas bought: $2.36, just outside of Dallas, Texas; most expensive reluctantly bought: $3.89 in Needles, California, 5 minutes away from $2.79 at the border in Arizona… always cheaper just down the road (Rule #1).
Only 5 hours to Albuquerque from Flagstaff, I found reasons to stop more often and spent the day sifting through the treasures of the exits. Six miles off the I-40 one can find the illusive Meteor National Park, in case one was searching, and I wasn’t about to miss an extraterrestrial event of such immense impact (pun painstakingly intended) on this adventure… the site was fenced off so that they could charge $15 to see the crater:
http://www.americansouthwest.net/arizona/meteor_crater/
Worth reading up on if you have time, but worth $15? I passed it up.
Further down the road (445 miles east on I-40), I passed up similar cultural enlightenment when I turned down paying $5 to see the museum of the Navajo ‘Trail of Tears,’ aka the less sentimentally invoking ‘The Navajo Long Walk to Bosque Redondo,’ which took place, ironically, exactly where people pay $15 to see a privately owned meteor crater on the Navajo’s land at Fort Sumner, New Mexico. Sadder than me not paying $5 was my not even being aware the ‘Long Walk’ existed.
No, I stopped because I flew by a billboard on I-40 recommending that I see Billy the Kid’s gravesite. Only after having seen it and discovered that the public restrooms were out of order, was I forced a ¼ mile down my own trail (of bladder quenching tears?) to the Bosque Redondo State Park to use the facilities (effectively where I was not coaxed into spending $5). Happening upon these ironies just coincidence? I think not, but uncovering government cover-ups is for suckers that pay $5 to become culturally sound or who go to Roswell to pay to see a museum (and as I’ve been told by the locals ‘very little else’) so I headed straight to Dallas after my one night in Albuquerque (Billy the Kid's gravesite, behind a cage and mostly hype).
Further down the road (445 miles east on I-40), I passed up similar cultural enlightenment when I turned down paying $5 to see the museum of the Navajo ‘Trail of Tears,’ aka the less sentimentally invoking ‘The Navajo Long Walk to Bosque Redondo,’ which took place, ironically, exactly where people pay $15 to see a privately owned meteor crater on the Navajo’s land at Fort Sumner, New Mexico. Sadder than me not paying $5 was my not even being aware the ‘Long Walk’ existed.
No, I stopped because I flew by a billboard on I-40 recommending that I see Billy the Kid’s gravesite. Only after having seen it and discovered that the public restrooms were out of order, was I forced a ¼ mile down my own trail (of bladder quenching tears?) to the Bosque Redondo State Park to use the facilities (effectively where I was not coaxed into spending $5). Happening upon these ironies just coincidence? I think not, but uncovering government cover-ups is for suckers that pay $5 to become culturally sound or who go to Roswell to pay to see a museum (and as I’ve been told by the locals ‘very little else’) so I headed straight to Dallas after my one night in Albuquerque (Billy the Kid's gravesite, behind a cage and mostly hype).
Once again, one night and one great time and I’d like to thank my host for putting me up and up with me. I enjoyed my first taste of New Mexican food and margarita (check off state #28 visited), which, from what I can tell, differs very little from the original Mexican food save the green or red chili salsa, which I am told, “they put on top of everything.” Either way my appetite was sufficed both in gratifying food and intriguing conversation.
.s.
