I was rewarded for last night's tempests with a spectacular day. Temperature in the '70s, vivid blue sky with just a few white clouds scattered about for effect, a nice breeze - just a perfect day for driving America's Main Street.

I stopped in the U Drop Inn for breakfast (cinnamon toast, and it was superb) before hitting the road. I struck up a conversation with some guys who were headed west from Massachusetts. At least one of them was moving to L.A. to pursue an acting career. I never figured out if they were all in on this scheme or just he, but they were traversing the country much more rapidly than I. They weren't even sure they were on 66; they'd just pulled off the interstate for a bite. Nice guys, and a pleasant chat.

The next burg down the road was McLean. One could easily zip through this place quickly and never what one had missed. This tiny community boasts several vintage attractions. For example, there's the Avalon, the local bijou. It's been closed for many years, but it remains in good enough condition that one can easily imagine it's a warm summer night in the late '50s. Perhaps Pillow Talk, with Rock Hudson and Doris Day, is on the bill tonight, or Rebel Without a Cause or A Summer Place or even Plan Nine From Outer Space. Right across the street is the McLean Museum, closed on this Sunday morn but it looked interesting. I did get to take a quick peek inside the Devil's Rope Museum which features an extensive collection of barbed wire and a Route 66 exhibit, to boot.

66 is a divided four-lane through McLean, something you don't often see along the route. What I mean by that is, the two west-bound lanes are separated from the east-bound lanes and many businesses are located in the rather wide area in between. It gives McLean, in effect, two main drags so to really see the place, one has to pass through town twice.

Leaving town to the west, one finds a special treat. The very first Phillips 66 service station was located here in McLean; it opened for business in 1930 but has been closed for many years. The little cottage that housed it was sitting unused, deteriorating steadily. The Route 66 Association of Texas decided to refurbish it, giving it a fresh coat of paint, some equipment of the time scattered about, an old delivery truck (also freshly painted) and an old drive-up rack as was once used for oil changes and such. Today, the little station looks much as it did the day it opened, with two pumps out front that look ready to dispense fuel and a classic Phillips 66 Petroleum sign roadside. It's a quite a nice added touch to this 66 town and well worth a look, even if it means a brief detour off the infernal interstate.

The towns along this section of the route each contain something worth seeing but they are tiny little burgs indeed and they become increasingly far apart. This stretch of the old road, as one motors west through the Texas panhandle, boasts wide, open spaces that become wider and more open the farther west one travels.

The next major stop is Amarillo and it is a choice stop, indeed. As one enters town from the east on Amarillo Boulevard (I-40 Business loop), one comes upon several vintage motels and motor courts. Few of them struck me as places I'd want to stay (and I'm not that picky) but most of them are still operating and are great photo opportunities.

One of the great advocates of the See Rock City theory of advertising as nagging is the Big Texan Inn. Anyone who has ever traveled the highways of Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona or even Maine, for all I know, has encountered the Big Texan's billboards enticing travelers with the promise of a free 72 oz. steak. No, that's not a misprint; the good folks at the Big Texan will give you a 72 oz. steak absolutely free. There is, of course, a catch: you must eat the entire steak plus a shrimp cocktail, salad, baked potato (or as our Vice-President would spell it, potatoe), and a buttered roll, all in an hour or less. If you fail, you gotta pony up the dough.

The Big Texan began as a Route 66 business. It only moved to its current site alongside I-40 when the interstate took away their customers. It's not much of a detour to reach the Big Texan so I decided to have my first steak in years. I declined to gorge myself on the 72 oz. monster, opting instead for the Fort Worth, an 8 oz. rib eye. I finished every bite, too, including corn-on-the-cob, pinto beans, green beans, baked potato, a green salad and a buttered roll. I got this feast for around 12 dollars, not a bad deal.

Just west of town is the famous Cadillac Ranch, an attraction I've often read about and seen pictures of but never visited. It is, for the uninitiated among you, a rather large and unwieldy piece of art in the middle of a wheat field comprised of ten Cadillacs with their noses imbedded in the ground. It was created by Ant Farm, a group of artists headed by a millionaire by the name of Stanley Marsh 3.The piece is much farther from the road than I imagined and last night's torrential downpour had left the field a muddy morass. I plunged ahead anyway and, of course, ended up covered with mud.

New Mexico is wondrous and magical, an ancient place filled with wisdom and mystery. For every lesson learned, there are untold secrets withheld, never to be revealed. From her mesas to her mountains, from the desert to the endless seas of her grasslands, New Mexico yields a natural beauty unmatched anywhere I've ever been. Route 66 winds through this wonderful state, respecting every turn and twist the landscape offers while pushing ever westward.

Sad to say, but the interstate has gobbled up much of the Mother Road through this glorious region. For long stretches, the 66 traveler has no other option than to give in to the call of the super-highway and impatiently await the opportunity to re-join the old road.

On the other hand, New Mexico also offers some of the oldest stretches of Route 66 to be found anywhere. Leaving Glenrio, right on the Texas border, one might, at first glance, think the interstate is the only way out of town but not so. 66 heads west and becomes a gravel road. It continues this way for some 20 miles, eventually turning again into an asphalt surface as it enters San Jon. You can continue on the old road another 8 miles or so, right into Tucumcari, a great 66 town. For years, travelers have encountered signs along the highway with the slogan, Tucumcari Tonight, boasting of the town's 2,000 motel rooms. I didn't have time to check the accuracy of this boast but I can attest to the fact that this burg is chock-full of great inns from the old days. I chose the Blue Swallow Motel, in operation since the '40s. The owner, Ms. Lillian Redman, has had the place since the '50s and she is a gem. Every person who checks into the Blue Swallow receives a card, hand-signed by Ms. Redman, with the following message:

Greetings Traveler:

In ancient times, there was a prayer for "The Stranger Within Our Gates." Because this motel is a human institution to serve people, and not solely a money-making organization, we hope that God will grant you peace and rest while you are under our roof.

May this room and motel be your "second" home. May those you love be near in thoughts and dreams. Even though we may not get to know you, we hope that you will be as comfortable and happy as if you were in your own house.

May the business that brought you this way prosper. May every call you make and every message you receive add to your joy. When you leave, may your journey be safe.

We are all travelers. From "birth till death" we travel between the eternities. May these days be pleasant for you, profitable for society, helpful for those you meet, and a joy to those who know and love you best.

Sincerely yours,

Lillian Redman
Blue Swallow Motel

It's difficult to imagine such sentiments being expressed by one of those conglomerate-owned inns that line the interstates, isn't it? Special touches like this can only be found along the old roads, especially Route 66. I won't lie to you, The Blue Swallow is not luxurious. It does, however, have a nice, homey feel to it and it's well kept. Each room has its own little garage with a neon blue swallow over the door. A worthy stop in a cool old town.

Tucumcari also has a vintage movie theatre, the Odeon. The current owner, Ramon Martinez and his young son, Alex, showed me around the place. Martinez was running the theatre as an employee of Commonwealth Theatres a few years back and when they threatened to close the place down, he bought it instead. Conversing with Martinez, it became apparent to me that the Odeon is, for him, a labor of love. As we discussed the theatre's history, the affection he feels for this old movie house came through over and over. It's nice to know that the place is in the hands of someone who cares.

The Odeon is not an ornate, intricate showpalace like so many theatres of its day; it's rather spartan in design. It has clean lines, though, and a nice-sized screen. It would be a great place to catch a flick. Alas, I arrived in town too late to attend the lone nightly showing. Don't you make the same mistake.

Another must-see in Tucumcari is the Tee-Pee Curio Store, a long-time trading post that proudly offers the jewelry and artwork of local artisans right alongside the rubber tomahawks and made-in-Taiwan Indian warbonnets traditionally found in these establishments. The front section of the building is shaped like a teepee; there's a great old neon sign, too. If you're not at least a little bit tempted to stop here, then perhaps 66 isn't for you.

Continue on the American Odyssey.
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