Coming to Texas

I left Tucumcari refreshed and ready to head back to the Lone Star State. I wish I had more time in Tucumcari, but it was 8:30 in the morning and time to explore parts of the Mother Road I have not seen.

The best part of driving is the unknown. While a plan may be in place, as we all know God laughs at those plans. For a while, it seems like every 1000 miles of driving my left rear tire would require air and Tucumcari was not immune from this. So, I stopped at a Phillips 66, asked for a tire gauge (shame on me for not carrying one) and put some life into that little tire. Now, I was ready to head east.

I figured, I have done all the interstate driving that I can, so I took 66 from Tucumcari. For the first several miles, the road was smooth. However, after I passed the San Jon Motel, the road became gravel and rough.

This pre-1952 alignment is a treat, it brought me to areas where there was nothing but small bridges, farms and ranches. The quietness, with the exception of the tires hitting the gravel, was music to my ears. After a while I was tired of the quiet and I wanted to put myself back in the era, so I put on 40's on 4 on XM Radio. For the next 18 miles or so, I was listening to Benny Goodman and Count Basie as I tried to place myself back into 1947.

After about forty minutes, it was Glenrio time. I actually believe it is its own time zone (maybe a schizophrentic zone) because a few feet to the west you are in the Mountain Time Zone, while a few feet to the east and you are in the Central Time Zone. This experience in Glenrio was different, mainly because I have been to portion of town that lies on the north end of I-40. This was a unique experience seeing the older businesses and shops that once served hungry motorists. I can just imagine getting some grits and bacon while entering another time zone.

The drive from Glenrio led me to the interstate, only due to necessity. So, I jumped on the overpass and headed to the MidPoint Cafe in Adrian, Texas. This is the midway point between Chicago and Los Angeles (supposedly as there is an ongoing feud with Vega over that distinction).

Believe it or not, while I have visited the place before I never ate there. I figured this was a good time to fill my stomach up. As I got out, I encountered a lady in her late 50's or early 60's coming off her hawg. I asked her where she came from and what was the next destination. " Atlanta, Georgia. I plan to visit a friend in Albuquerque then on to California." After explaining some good places to see and eat near the Duke City we both figured to sit at a booth and order some good food.

We both ordered hamburgers and french fries. While she told me about her children, some went to college, while another is fixing his life and attempting to attend classes, I told her about my background as a roadie from New York who moved to Texas who fell in love with the Panhandle region a few years back. She was in a rush, so no dessert for her. I told her good luck and ride hard, she said goodbye and that was it.

I heard about the pies, so I had to stay. I ordered the Chocolate Chip Pie. It was delicious and left me full for days. However, it was time to hit the road again. I left and not too far was a beautiful, quaint classic gas station from yesteryear.

Driving down 66 in Texas again felt great. I entered Vega, where I had to stop and take a look at the Magnolia Station. Afterwards, I hit the Boot Hill Saloon; a gorgeous saloon might I add.

After shooting the breeze for a bit, it was time to head to the Ambassador Hotel in Amarillo to meet my Lady from Lubbock and prepare for the Festival.