Right at Exit Zero on the New Mexico-Texas border, old Route 66 branches off from Interstate 40 toward more interesting country in Glenrio, New Mexico. The road surface varied from gravel to dirt, but no where near the adventure that was northeastern Oklahoma. Mrs. VCH was driving, and we motored along at around 40 miles an hour, enjoying being off the interstate and the fact that the old road actual diverged from the interstate by a fair bit, rather than simply being a frontage road.
Not too far across the border, a glint of metal caught my eye off to the south. The further west we went on 66, the more old iron we'd come across, in varying states of (dis)repair, so my car-dar was up. We passed the field of rusty metal, hidden among the low scrub grass, and I noticed that state route 93 cut off to the south and uphill slightly. Figuring the elevation would give a better vantage point, Mrs VCH turned up 93 for about a mile, and then slowly came back down.
Barbed wire fence and "NO TRESPASSING" signs lined the road, and I had no desire to test the strictness of the enforcement of that policy. And so, perched on the doorsills of the Jimmy, I snapped the best pictures I could.
There was some old, old sheetmetal oxidizing in slow motion in the high desert sun. How it got there, who owned the land, and even what exactly the cars were is a mystery. It felt like discovering some ancient artifact, and we really wished we could have gotten in where all the old relics were stashed, to take better pictures. The Google Earth shows a seemingly random placement of the wrecks, but no other real information. It seemed deserted, though there were still mailboxes on 93 for the property. We got back to Rt 66, and soon after the gravel and dirt gave way quite abruptly to regular asphalt.
Continuing on Rt 66 west, we passed through San Jon, and headed towards Tucumcari. A bit east of Tucumcari we came across another stash of old cars, though these seemed to be part of a business, and in generally better condition.
We really wanted to get out and poke around some, but a small, bark-y dog was wandering around inside the fenced area, with a somewhat bothersome "DOG WILL BITE" sign on the fence. So we kept on towards Tucumcari proper.
Tucumcari turned out to be a somewhat strange little town- it seemed to encompass a block on either side of Route 66, but went on for a couple of miles.
Businesses seemed to be in a state of flux. The Blue Swallow Motor Court was undergoing a thorough renovation, and we stopped, got out of the car, and looked around at the neat old cars and period vibe of the place.
Other places in town were more...well...
It was about early afternoon on Wednesday by the time we'd made it through Tucumcari. Daylight threatened scarcity, but our day of New Mexico autombilia still had one more stop to go- Santa Rosa, specifically the Route 66 Auto Museum. Small Child needed to get out and stretch her legs a bit, so we let her wander the mostly-empty parking lot.
I'd seen this Edsel-loader before, but didn't realize it called here home. The other classics in this lineup were equally interesting.
Little VCH wandered off behind the museum, and found a few other treasures stashed away for someday. This was her favorite, of course.
Wife needed to visit the comfort facilities of the museum, which allowed me some time to explain the history and significance of Chrysler's Hemi engine to my daughter.
No kitschy small American town would be complete without its own unique examples of early and mid-century signage, naturally, and Santa Rosa is no exception.
Now, like one of the old "choose your adventure" books, our path bifurcated, and a route needed to be chosen. The old 66 alignment shot up what is now US-84 ntowards Las Vegas (New Mexico, not Nevada) and then over to Santa Fe and back down to Albuquerque (yes, I spelled that without the aid of spell checker). The later 66 route simply continued west from Santa Rosa along what is now I-40 to the Buquerque. The earlier route was about an hour more driving, but seemed more scenic, so up US-87 we went, Mrs. VCH still at the wheel. Just south of Las Vegas, I-25 took off west.
A few miles shy of Santa Fe, we exited 25 and took a leisurely drive through Santa Fe, stopping along the river park for Small Child to stretch her legs again. As it should have become obvious by now, we determined that these little micro-stops every few hours, interspersed with in-car naps, kept her reasonably good natured and allowed us to make as good a time as possible. And, frankly, the shorter stints let us stay hydrated (owing to more opportunities to relive the natural by-products of good hydration) and prevent various appendages from loosing circulation.
Santa Fe architecture is stylistically very consistent. This statement is not mean to detract at all from it's aesthetic value. Unfortunately we somehow managed to drive through the entire area without taking one picture. I guess you can google it to see what it looks like. Or, better yet, go there.
Since I-25 doesn't have too much in the way of a daughter road between Santa Fe and Algodones, we followed it south until NW-313 began, at which point the interstate was once again put aside in favor of something more closely resembling a motoring adventure in the pre-Eisenhower years. And soon, we were in Albuquerque.
The old road is well-marked through quirky Albuquerque, and heads out of town adorned with these markers. Being twilight at this point, the markers even illuminated.
With all the best intentions, we stuck with Route 66 as it frontaged I-40 west of Albuquerque, but missed our last opportunity to get on I-40 before 66 dead ended. We ended up behind a prison bus, which quite possibly freaked out the bus driver slightly as we only U-turned when we'd reached the point where the bus turned left to head towards some correctional facility. Oops. Back on I-40, Lucy the Jimmy charged west yet again. We were determined to get as far as possible, so the last leg of the trip into Phoenix on Thursday wouldn't have to be too painful. The New Mexico sun draped across the horizon.
We stopped in Grants for gas, and to sooth the littlest member of our tribe. Business 40 bypasses the interstate for a few miles here, which gave us a scenic tour of Grants and let us assess the situation a little. While a number of worthy-looking motels lured us with their neon, the town of Gallup seemed to be only another hop down the road. So we went for it. I leaned on Lucy, and the four-point-three engine put mass quantities of blacktop behind us.
The strip in Gallup, New Mexico was a sight to behold, surpassing even Tucumcari for sheer quantities of neon and glitz. And being fully dark by now, the light show was at it's prime. After cruising up and down the strip a couple of times, and stopping at a gas station to check online reviews of a few places, we made the decision. We'd spend the last night on the road at the El Rancho.
This place was a palace in the desert. Dark wood and white painted walls, heavy dark furniture, deceased animal busts, and a triple wagon wheel chandelier created a real lodge-type atmosphere in the lobby.
A 20 foot Christmas tree, lit with red chili pepper lights, tickled the ceiling.
Rooms were named after the famous celebrities who had stayed there. We had room 230- Robert Taylor. The room itself was quite large, with multiple closets and a neat little sitting area (in which I typed Tuesday's update). The bathroom was quite small, but clean, and it's really nice to find older places like this with character that are well-preserved and not scary to spend the night in. Much, much of an improvement over the previous night in Amarillo; in fact, the nicest lodging we found along our trip.
After checking in and bringing our belongings inside, we set out in search of food- Mexican, always a safe choice. Neon signs illuminated the short walk across the street to the restaurant, and like the Northern Star, guided us back to the El Rancho afterwards for the night.
Excellent, the El Rancho is without doubt the best place you could have chosen for that night. If you liked that, be sure to take a few minutes to walk around for a mini-tour of the La Posada in Winslow. Other than the Corner, there's not much else to see in Winslow, but La Posada is worth the brief time out. Are you going to Flagstaff ("don't forget Winona" a few miles east of town on old 66)and then down I-17? If you have time, Lowell Observatory in Flag is worth a stop, as is Meteor Crater on the way to Flag. Great Mexican food in Flag at La Fonda restaurant in East Flag. Great scenery in Oak Creek Canyon to Sedona, then back out to I-17 if you have the time, but you won't make good time because of all the tourist traffic (might not be bad this time of year).
Very, very interesting thread, sounds like you're having a great trip!!
For another trip, Las Vegas, NM has some great Old West history to see - if you like the TV series Longmire, the town scenes are shot in Las Vegas. The historic Plaza Hotel (on the plaza)is nicely restored, affordable, has great food and actually takes pets.
In reply to Jim Pettengill:
Yup, did the La Posada, but needed to head down to Fee-nix afterwards. Last time we were here (about 2 years ago) we did Flagstaff-Williams-grand Canyon, though, and drove through Sedona, which was gorgeous. More updates tonight!
By Wednesday night we'd covered some 1,991 miles since we left Sunday morning. The hiccup in southwestern Missouri seemed to be cured, and Lucy had been giving us mile after mile of reliable, reasonably comfortable transportation. I wish I'd kept better track of the mileage, but we were averaging about 250 to 280 miles in between fill-ups of usually around 13 or 14 gallons. The further west we drove, though, the further distances seemed to draw out in between reliable sources of petroleum, so if the fuel gauge read under a half, and we were feeling in need of a break, we'd stop and top off the tank.
Every morning before setting off I'd check under the hood for fluid levels, too, and a quick inspection to make sure nothing was loose or otherwise impending doom. Thursday morning I walked out of the El Rancho to this:
Ice! it was 27 degrees out- the coldest we'd seen since leaving Maryland. Yes, Maryland was warmer than western New Mexico, in December. I checked the oil, and it had finally dropped to the ADD mark, so I dumped in the quart of 10W-30 I'd brought with us. 1,991 miles (hard miles) in a 15 year old truck, with 168,000 miles on it, and it burned one quart of oil. Not bad.
This is what the inside of Room 230 of the El Rancho looks like, after an 18 month old child is set loose in it for a night.
And here's the outside of the hotel, in the daylight.
Classy, no?
We'd read about this little place on the west end of Gallup that supposedly did our kind of breakfast- cheap, fast, and tasty. The building looked a little on the unpretentious side from the parking lot...
But the Huevos Rancheros (mine) and chorizo omelet (hers) were delicious. Apparently the big debate in New Mexico is "Red or Green", referring to the color of salsa you prefer. I'm definitely a fan of the green. Mrs VCH prefers red. And yet we co-exist peacefully. There's a lesson in there somewhere.
After inhaling the amazing breakfast and downing a pot of coffee, we raced a BNSF freight out of Gallup towards the state line.
Finally, we reached the 12th and final state of our journey.
There isn't much interesting along Route 66 as one enters Arizona (it's either a frontage road, or nonexistent, having been plowed over by the interstate). But even the 40 provides some great views of the desert landscape.
At Exit 311, the Petrified Forest and Painted Deserts required an hour or so detour.
We paid our $20, and drove the entirety of the 26-odd mile park road.
The landscapes in these national forests are just jaw-droppingly breathtaking. What made them even better was the fact that, likely due to the season of the year, the day of the week, the cold weather, and the time of the day, we were the only car out there.
A roadrunner crossed paths with us, and obliged a photo.
This could have easily been a picture from a dealer brochure for the 2000 GMC lineup.
My wife likes to read informational signs. And I like to photograph her doing so. At this particular point, she said, "I wonder how far away those mountains are?", to which I replied "I bet at least a hundred miles." She didn't believe me.
More wildlife.
Near I-40, on a stretch of now-overgrown Rt-66, a 1932 Studebaker rests. It has not run in...a while.
As the Park road loops around, it crosses I-40 and heads due south into the Petrified Forests and what is sometimes referred to as "The Badlands".
It is simply surreal what is going on here. Vegetation is nearly non-existent. No insects or animals made their presence known. The landscape looked like something from another planet. And it was downright spooky how quiet everything was.
At most of the parking areas along the park road we'd stop, take a few dozen pictures, and get back in the Jimmy to head to the next one. Newspaper rock was one of the more historically significant places; glyphs from thousands of years ago still exist, remnants from ancient peoples' communication.
At another stop, we got out to do a mile long hike down into the heart of the Badlands.
I'll probably always remember this second picture. The ball cap I'm wearing was a little souvenir I picked up in Cadillac Mountain, Maine, after driving to the summit back in the summer of 1998, in between my Junior and Senior years of college. I've worn this cap all over the country. As we hiked back to the Jimmy, however, a huge, sudden gust of air came along and stole the cap from my head. In an instant the cap was gone- tossed over the side of a giant cliff. Gone forever, clear across the country from where I'd gotten it over 17 years ago and on top of another mountain. Good-Bye, beloved cap. I will miss you.
Glum from losing my favorite baseball cap, I didn't take too many more pictures for awhile. We continued south on the park road until its terminus at US-180. There, a small museum dedicated to "The Rainbow Forest" had some neat petrified wood specimens that were quite photogenic. There were also bathrooms, which were very much welcomed.
Katie turned right onto the 180, which took us into Holbrook, Arizona.
Apart from a strange fascination with dinosaurs, Holbrook, AZ also hosts a Wigwam motel, which was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Most of the individual wigwams has an antique car parked out front, adding to the ambiance.
The roofrack on this old Ford was simply welded-together rebar. Very Grassrootsian.
This '41 Packard had a registration from Pennsylvania from some time in the 1970's and a "gasholes" car club sticker from Des Moines, Iowa that looked slightly newer. Now, somehow, the car was resting in Holbrook.
From a mileage standpoint, now, it would have been fastest to head down AZ-377 towards Tempe, where Mrs VCH's brother lives. But, we'd come so far, we had already decided that we needed to make one last stop on Route 66, a few miles up the road from Holbrook.
Thousands, I'm sure, have been photographed in front of this very spot, and now, we have been too. In case you have been living under a rock (musically, anyway) since the 1960's, there's this song, you see, sung by a group named "The Eagles", where the singer is "standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona" and sees "a girl, my Lord, in a flat bed Ford". And because of this mention in a 1970's rock song, Winslow, Arizona has decked out "The Corner" with a mural, a statue of Don Henley, a gift shop that plays Eagles music on a constant loop, and, of course, a Flatbed Ford. You supply the girl.
My wife is more of a Chevy gal, though. So she preferred this:
As Jim Pettengill pointed out, Winslow is not just a one-trick pony of a town. It's actually a two-trick pony, the second trick being the La Posada hotel. This was one of the last great 'Railroad Hotels', built in 1930, as a place where folks could stay the night while passing through via train (something folks used to do a lot of before interstates were invented)
The hotel had been somewhat of a wreck up until recently, when it finally received the restoration it deserved. We went inside and walked around a bit, bought a post card and a Rt-66 Christmas tree ornament, and admired the architecture.
Finally, it was time to go. We walked back to Lucy the Jimmy, back past "The Corner", and got ready to leave Winslow, and Route 66.
When we'd stopped at the gift shop at the Painted Desert to buy water, we'd also picked up a small souvenir for Lucy. Since Winslow was to be our final stop on Route 66, it seemed appropriate to do this here. We took out a wet wipe from the baby's supplies, and wiped a clean spot on the bumper. Off came the mud from Oklahoma, the dust from New Mexico. and thousands of miles of other assorted road grime. Yes, Lucy earned this sticker.
Now, all that was left was to head south on AZ-87 and follow it to our ultimate destination.
Cactus picture or it didn't happen
So Have you reached your destination yet? It has been a great story.
Brian wrote: So Have you reached your destination yet? It has been a great story.
We have; currently in Phoenix. More pictures, wrap up, etc to come...
Thanks for the story. Make me want to take the long way.
Yes, thanks for the thread. Very enjoyable and congrats on making it!!
A brief update: we're on our way to Tucson (in my in-law's rental Journey) to visit some other family. We made it to Phoenix in the Jimmy Thursday evening. After stickering Lucy on The Corner in Winslow, Arizona, I got behind the wheel as we turned south on AZ-87.
Arizona state route 87 is a lonely road until you get to Payson. And long: mileage-wise, it was about as far from Winslow to Phoenix as it was from Gallup to Winslow. The fuel gauge on the Jimmy was venturing into "mildly uncomfortable" territory when we stumbled upon a small station near Happy Jack, AZ.
It was the most expensive fuel of the trip ($2.30 a gallon) but I realized long ago that a few extra pennies per gallon is cheap compared to the possibility of running out. The man at the counter in the store (which, as far as we could tell, was the town of Happy Jack) told us we were about 2 hours from Phoenix, so I added just enough fuel to give us a comfortable cushion and left.
Around Clines Corners, AZ-87 gets a bit of a twist to it. Since I was driving a short-wheelbase SUV with a baby seat in the back, I took it easy (mostly), and enjoyed the scenery of the mountains and pine forests. We motored through Payson and from there to Phoenix, AZ-87 was 4 lanes with long, sweeping turns and a 65 mph limit. The sun set on Arizona as we came to the outskirts of P-town.
2,303 miles, 4 motel rooms, 34 Wal-Marts, 1/2 a Bota box of wine, 28 diapers, and one Vehicle Speed Sensor later, we were there. We did what many said could not be done; or at least, should not be done. We were crazy. We were nuts. But we didn't kill each other, or the baby. We didn't get robbed in a cheap motel room in the Texas Panhandle. The Jimmy was, save one minor repair, very good to us. And we have memories that no plane flight could have ever given us.
Thank you to all the GRMers who followed our journey, and offered their words of encouragement and help. A special thanks to ¯_(ツ)_/¯ who may have just provided the little bit of inspiration we needed to make this pilgrimage. There's really just two more words needed.
Good trip.
Good trip indeed! Great write up. As to whatever inspiration I may have provided- you're welcome, and you can curse me in about a month when you realize you just want to do it again.
Thanks for the GREAT trip notes and photos. Please do this again, on your next trip. BUT....34 Walmarts ??? I hope most of those were drive-bys.
Rog
Awesome write up of the trip! Thanks for taking the time to share this wuth us! 
Yes thanks for sharing an amazing trip with us!!!
Awesome!
Man I'm so jealous, that looks like a blast! I've thoroughly enjoyed reading this...can't wait for my family's next road trip!
Thank you and I'm glad that you all made it safely.
I've got to do a long road trip like this one of these days.
Thanks for sharing.
boulder_dweeb wrote: Thanks for the GREAT trip notes and photos. Please do this again, on your next trip. BUT....34 Walmarts ??? I hope most of those were drive-bys. Rog
I am proud to say that we did not stop at one Wal-mart the entire trip. In fact, we only stopped at one chain restaurant- the Wa-Ho in Amarillo.
The Wal-Mart thing just became a running joke because we were passing them so often, we decided to keep a count. Sort of like hearing "Sultans of Swing" on a classic rock radio station.
Speaking of which, we didn't listen to one CD, mp3, tape, or anything. Never once fired up the DVD player, either. We either listened to the radio, or gasp had conversations. Granted, some of those conversations were about what I was typing here while Mrs VCH was driving, but still, it was interactive.
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