*To catch up on the story so far, first read: The Great American Roadtrip Part 1
Wednesday morning marked our first true day as adventurers. We had a vague plan of lunch in Armadillo, Texas, and I started the drive so that Anna could Google other oddities along the way. This is how we managed to tick off our list seeing either the “world’s largest” or “world’s smallest” something—in the middle of the deserted downtown of Wichita Falls, Texas, the world’s littlest skyscraper is for rent. We were intrigued by the website’s proclamation that it stood just over 16 feet tall—I imagined plate glass windows only inches tall each, the rest of the street full of dwarf houses in order to create the illusion of this building towering over them. Unfortunately, this is all a hoax, a money making scam by some hustler building developer who created blueprints for a regular two-story building, but scaled it in inches, not feet, and conned investors into believing otherwise. Still, it’s a photo-op, so who are we to pass it up!
Back on the road, I realized that for as long as I’ve known Anna, I have been considered to be the bad driver of the group. I know I have had a few reasons to earn that reputation along the way, but never in all those years did I attempt to whip the car around into an illegal U-turn in the middle of the road. (Anna made at least five of these between New Orleans and Las Vegas. I demand someone reevaluate these reputations!) The reason for this sudden urge to backtrack was so that we could visit a junk shop on the side of the road. It literally looked like a permanent yard sale with all the junk from your grandmother’s attic left out on the lawn for about fifty years until it all rusted beyond recognition. Anna was apparently already looking for decorating tips for her new apartment…Pier One will give you all the same rustic looks, without the need for a tetanus shot, darling…
Safely back on the highway, the first place we made sure to visit based on our book of eccentric stops was Amarillo, Texas. The beginning of our journey on Route 66, Amarillo housed two major attractions for us, and one included lunch! This is how we ended up in the Big Texan Steakhouse—home of the 72 ounce sirloin. Yes, we know everything is bigger in Texas, but that doesn’t necessarily make it better. Thank goodness we had our physicals before clogging up the arteries! This restaurant was like being inside a taxidermist workshop—every five feet along the walls hung some version of stuffed head and antlers. All the tablecloths were cow print. The waiters wore cowboy hats, bandannas, and over sized belt buckles. It was a pile of Texas stereotypes, served to you with a side of beef! But it was very good beef…
Fully stuffed from our grand lunch (we didn’t dare attempt the 72 oz. steak, but Anna had a rather “adventurous” bison burger to start getting used to Western cuisine–I’m pretty sure fried chicken and collard greens are in the past for her now!) and happy from a postcard shopping spree, we set out to find the quirky Cadillac Ranch, just down the road. You could say this next leg of our trip was based around visiting the forgotten landmarks that make Route 66 so exciting–where else can you find a “sculpture” made from planting classic Caddies fins up and letting tourists spray paint them for years to come? We climbed, we made photo ops, we left our mark on 3 separate cars, and we hit the road when other people started showing up–because what fun are forgotten landmarks when you have to share them with tourists?
We were almost fed up from counting the tumbleweed, our only landmarks in West Texas, when we crossed into New Mexico and had a chance for another “state line” photo op–except the fine people of New Mexico didn’t consider our “balance the camera on car, hit self timer, and run” method of taking these shots–there was no place to park the car near the sign, so we had to settle for individual shots instead. Already this state was disappointing us–we ended our day an hour later at a La Quinta Inn and drown our sorrows with margaritas and a hot tub. At least we would be relaxed for the next day’s adventures…
The next morning, we started making a list of upcoming sites and photo ops, trying to plan our remaining 800 miles out a bit. First point: take a photo at the first green highway sign that says “Las Vegas: xxx Miles”. We figured this would pop up on some lonely strip of desert in Arizona, so imagine our surprise when we saw the sign 20 minutes after starting our journey! Anna parked the car on the shoulder and I started fiddling with the camera timer…and then we both realized that “Las Vegas 65 miles” was probably not the same city we were heading towards. At least we caught on before taking that detour!
Speaking of detours, our next stop was definitely that! We planned to see as many odd things as possible on this trip, but still had a destination to reach, so we limited our odd things to being on the route we were traveling–and being on Route 66, it wasn’t that difficult, except Anna really wanted to see the cemetery in Chilili, and after living in New Orleans, I had acquired an odd fascination for cemeteries too, so I agreed to help navigate her 15 miles down a dirt road in search of it…except with no cell phone signal, a VERY confused GPS, and 15 miles turning into more like 30, I really began to question if this wasn’t just some plot to dump me in the desert and steal my cool iPhone!
Finally finding the cemetery, I was initially disappointed that it looked so rundown and only had a few plots inside–did we really risk being stranded where even Triple-A couldn’t find us for this? But, it is acutally incredible! A local man named Horance McAfee recreated the wording of almost every headstone in tin, punching out the individual letters with a nail. He welded protective frames around them all and wrote up his views of the after life (again, in tin) at the entrance. It wasn’t quite family tombs and Jazz funerals, but it’s a seriously cool cemetery to see!
