Texas

Route 66 crosses the Texas panhandle badly carved up, with frequent sections taken over by I-40.  I did pass through a few of the quiet little towns.  I was pleased in Shamrock to see the Deco Tower and U Drop Inn, a classic gas station-restaurant combo that thrived through the decades of US66 (now a showplace with requisite vintage vehicles). 

Then down the road in McLean, another well-preserved vintage gas station.   

                       

                          

Gradually I was moving up onto the northern part of the Llano Estacado “Staked Plain”, a broad high table-land that extends down much of the length of west Texas.  This is a vast empty region, some grassland, some bare prairie.  The name is claimed as either relating to early pioneers driving posts to mark a trail (to avoid getting lost) or to the high mesa looking from afar as being lined with a barricade of posts, or stakes.  

In any case, the land lacks any features, practically any trees – just endlessly flat, until it drops off soon after reaching the New Mexico border.  It is telling that further south there really is a town named Levelland.  The fact that along Route 66 there were numerous little towns across the panhandle, many dried up by now, is a testament to how tough are the folks scratching out a living in this inhospitable place.  And of course this area was in the middle of the Dust Bowl and all its “worst hard time”.

Amarillo demonstrated to me that, yes, Texans are a little different.  I found my motel, moved in, and set out for the not-to-miss Big Texan Steak House.  At the desk clerk’s suggestion, I called them and, amazingly, they sent around an old cowboy in a very nice Cadillac who shuttled me out to the east end of the city to the restaurant.  It is a huge, lively, crowded tourist trap with loud country music and a very tall cowboy statue out front.  After wandering around a bit I was called to the dining room, which to me was a surreal experience.  I took some pictures, ate my only fair steak, and caught a shuttle limo back to my motel. 

                           

                               

 



The next morning I set out on a clear day bound for New Mexico, but very quickly had to stop for a shot of the famous Cadillac Ranch.  These ten Caddys range through the “tail-fin” years, from 1948 to 1964.  It was a nostalgic moment, as I remembered my own 1962 mauve Sedan DeVille (very finny, with all-leather mauve interior!).  I bought it in 1970 for $175, and drove it for a couple of years as it gradually died.  Memorable.  Anyway, Cadillac Ranch is a wonderfully odd work of art.

The Old Road soon took me into the small town of Vega, Texas.  As I pulled through town I had to note a wonderful statue of a Longhorn.  As I turned to go, a lady beckoned me to come over to a gas-station museum she was opening.  She was the head of the Vega chamber of commerce and booster of the town’s history with Route 66.  I listened to a lot of Vega history, signed the guest book, put a few bucks in the jar, and excused myself.

                    

   
Down the road I stopped in for coffee at Adrian, Texas, which claims to be the midpoint of Route 66.  I said hello to some other “66ers” I had met somewhere back east, and noted a purple Corvette (sorry, not convertible) a couple of guys were driving west.  I would see them two more times on my trip, and we waved as if we were old buddies.

                    

 



One of the guidebooks suggested I turn off before the state line and go through the defunct berg of Glenrio, Texas, and then follow the original old gravel 66 (another paved route had eclipsed it) some twenty miles into New Mexico.  Glenrio was a classic example of the many “spots in the road” serving Route 66 that had been bypassed and abandoned as a newer highway came through.