Before I write anything I want to note that it does not matter where you are in the country, if you are traveling by highway for more than an hour at some point a ginormous American Jet Black SUV with Florida license plates will come barreling past you doing 110 miles per hour. And I guarantee it will be either an Expedition, a Yukon, or an Escalade.
So yesterday was just a long ass day with everything taking longer and being more irritating. The cats made a royal disaster out of the car, Thurston added a crate to his list of items he has chewed through, Joelle’s uterus dictated a number of unplanned stops, we tried to eat at the Big Texan in Amarillo but the wait was absurd, and by the time I had the car unloaded and cleaned up, the animals all fed and bedded down for the night, us fed and in the room, all I wanted to do was sleep.
I’m not gonna lie, I was in that exhausted travel mode that at one point in the little family Thai restaurant we finally ate at, as we were waiting for food to be delivered, I had the whole questioning my life choices conversation- “At what point did I make the choice that got me to here- starving to death in a wood paneled thai restaurant with a pool table and a gambling machine in fucking Texas after 12 hours of voluntarily driving two cats and a dog in a car that smells like the dumpster at an underfunded animal shelter… what choice do I go back and change to get to retired millionaire on an island.”
But that was yesterday. We woke up bright and early and visited Cadillac Ranch for sunset, then headed on down the road to Tucumcari and hit a diner for breakfast. Joelle had some flapjacks and I had eggs over easy, bacon, some hash browns, and out of nowhere ordered a slice of apple pie with a scoop of ice cream. Joelle told me that eating diner pie on Route 66 is an iconic thing to do, but I had no idea. I personally think planting a twelve foot wide five foot tall illuminated glass case full of pie right at the entrance that every fucking fat guy has to walk past and of course they are going to order pie.
Today’s drive was awesome. Clear blue skies and 40 degrees, and the topography of New Mexico is some of the prettiest I have ever seen. The change from the Texas panhandle to New Mexico was really quite remarkable. The closest thing I can compare it to is the difference between East and West Germany when I was stationed there. West Germany was bright, modern, with bright colors and clear skies and hope. You would drive five clicks to the East in be in the former DDR and everything was different shades of beige and dingy and depressing.
As soon as we left Texas, it was like leaving East Germany. Dingy prairie was immediately replaced with striking mesas, deep brown sunburnt rock formations,the sagebrush like vegetation providing some greens, and the labyrinthine wadi like ravines (I dunno what they called them in the sw, we called em wadi’s in the middle east) with the striking snow capped mountains to the north. The descent into the Rio Grand Valley and Albuquerque is one of those things you kinda have to experience, too. At some points the mountains were less jagged, and if you didn’t pay attention to the scarcity and variety of vegetation, felt almost Appalachian.
We were going to stop in Albuquerque, but were both feeling so good that we decided to press on to Flagstaff. The prairie portions of that region were unremarkable in every way except their sheer enormity, but the slow climb up towards Flagstaff and the Colorado Plateau was quite the reward, and I liked seeing the reemergence of trees, even if they were just garbage firs and pinion pines. We went to La Fondida for Mexican, and now are preparing for bed, but I wanted to make sure I gave proof of life- we are all still alive and kicking.
Thurston is getting better or I am getting better at handling Thurston, and have learned to drug him a half hour before getting him into the car so I can pour him into the car once he is in a stupor. Since he shredded his crate we are now down to the auxilliary cat carrier, which he can barely turn around in, and we put that in the backseat and put a light blanket over him. He’s in his own little snug and comfy world like William Hurt in Altered States, and every hour or so we turn the music down to make sure he is still snoring. Right now he is under the covers in bed with Joelle.
I have a ton of pics but the wifi sucks, so I will share them another day.
It is at this point intrepid readers familiar with the southwest are asking why the fuck did you press on to Flagstaff instead of just going to Tempe. And the answer, folks, is I would rather shoot myself in the face than show up to her house at 8pm and unload two cats and a dog, all of whom need to be bathed at this point (except Maxwell because YOU fucking get near his murder mittens with a faucet), AND deal with integrating them into the two existing dogs who have spent the last week wondering where Joelle is and then she shows up with this crowd of carnies. Fuck that. Joelle had never been to Flagstaff via this route, it was a nice day, and the drive from Flagstaff to Tempe will be nice, and we will arrive at a time where we can slowly and methodically put this new family of dogs and cats togethe together.
We are going to get up when we want, slop the hogs, get some breakfast for ourselves, and then head home. I’ll fill you in with more tomorrow.
I don’t think Joelle will read this far down, but the next time we drive cross country I am going to write an end table phot book called “The Complete Guide to Bathrooms and Rest Stops of the Southwest.” Why not? I’ve already done the fucking research.