Day Nine
After the proverbial hearty breakfast, we motored west on the highway that is best.
One thing I failed to mention is that while crossing the Great Divide, we traversed at an elevation of more than7300 feet which had no effect on the performance of the 2cv, or at least it was not apparent to us. One event that sticks in my mind was when, in order to keep my rev’s up, I took a run at a big rig and made a great effort to overtake him on a long upgrade. I was passing him at a rate of 10 feet/minute when both of us seemed to run out of air. I was nearly at his door, but not gaining, when I looked in my mirror to see a missive wall of chrome-plated Peterbuilt filling my rearveiw mirror. I was helpless to do anything; I couldn’t slow down to let him pass; I couldn’t speed up (that takes no explanation) when a wonderful thing happened! The big rig maintained his speed, and mine, about 3 feet from my rear bumper. This was fantastic! I have drafted the big trucks to my advantage and now he was drafting ME! Together we added just enough speed to overtake the truck in the slow lane. when I was clear, I pulled over and my fellow “trucker” passed me with a mp3e and a ‘toot’ from his horn.
About 20 miles west of Gallup is Lupton, AZ, a town which straddles the New Mexico-Arizona border. This was most evident in the souvenir shop which had the state line painted on the floor. You could buy something in New Mexico and pay for it in Arizona. The store had many good quality Indian artifacts and pottery. They also had a corral with a small herd of buffalo and also an archeological site which held relics from the earliest times of these indigenous peoples. A minute of reflection makes it abundantly clear that we are visitors to this land.
If New Mexico has the extraordinary sky, Arizona has the vistas. It was easy to see why the early film makers used the Arizona landscape for their sagas. The land stretches itself and your perceptions to a great degree. Peripheral vision here is more than just what you perceive in one glance. The horizon and the land formations extend a full 360 degrees. The mountains, buttes, scrub desert, mesas and the endless horizonline of land and sky surround you. It’s as if you were, indeed, in the center of the world, for it is hard to imagine otherwise.
The road is straight and the vistas change so slowly, yet you do make progress across the great expanse of this state. We drove through the Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest as we traveled westward.
| In Holbrook we stopped for a photo op at the Wigwam Motel, a group of concrete “teepees” which appeared to be quite roomy. The phrase “Head for the roundhouse, Nelly, he’ll never corner you there” crossed my mind. |
|
|
Our next stop was at the Jack Rabbit Trading Post in Joseph City, which has been selling souvenirs since the 1940’s. For miles, the billboards with a crouching rabbit with no words piques the curiosity. |
There “mascot” is a large concrete rabbit outside of their store. I sent a photo to Sylvain and he replied, “There is such a kind of ‘sculpture’ only in the USA, but there is only a crazy American to have the idea of sitting on the rabbit for a picture.” I plead guilty on both counts: to being crazy and to sitting.
We drove through Flagstaff, Arizona and almost forgot Winona. The only thing we saw of Winona was the Community Center building, which looked no larger than a pre-fad garden shed.
On the road we encountered a group of Harley riders heading to Seligman. We got a few thumbs up from them as we passed. The helmets they wore were just different enough from the ones Americans wear, so that we assumed that they were Europeans. When we stopped for refreshments, we learned that three of the guys were German and one was a Dutchman. They own and drive their Harleys at home, but ship them over in order to ride the Route. We talked to many foreigners and learned that they prefer the New Mexico, Arizona, California leg of the trip, not for any historical reason, but because the road is good and the vistas are endless.
Stopped in Seligman and checked into the Route 66 Motel (formerly the Navajo Inn). In downtown Seligman (that’s the middle block of five), we saw a couple of tour busses, a thing we hadn’t seen on the road before this. One had French tourists, and the other German. After they departed, we talked to the proprietor of the giftshop. He said he loves to see the Germans hit town because each man on the bus will buy at least $100-worth of American license plates. The idea is to collect all 50 states.
We had an Angus burger at the Road Kill Cafe and turned in for the night.
 Previous day |
 Next day |