It was like we were doing some crazy Route 66 tour these last two weeks. We planned on following the old route as far as Flagstaff before heading south, it looked as though we caught the classic highway in Tulsa, but no...we actually started in Chicago, where Route 66 starts.
We flew up to Chicago to celebrate our son Tyko's (Seth) matriculation into medical school at Rush University in Chicago. They call it a "white coat" ceremony where they issue the white coats to each first year medical student. Each student stood and introduced themselves, said their major, where they went to school and where they were from.
One student claimed he majored at Arizona State in Partying, our son went to Ripon College and majored in Computer Sciences and Biology. There is only one student from South Dakota at Rush, though, the few the proud, I guess.
Our other twin, Allwin drove down from Madison and we had a nice visit, celebration and ate food at Greek Town and then he drove us back to O'hare and we flew back to Tulsa to continue our journey westward and catch back up to the fabled highway. We had to miss a wedding of a friends' daughter in Massachusetts but our son was sort of a late addition to Rush and so we couldn't do it all in a very short period of time.
John Steinbeck in The Grapes of
Wrath Could not have said it better.
“Highway 66 is the main migrant road. 66—the
long concrete path across the country, waving gently up and down on the map,
from Mississippi to Bakersfield—over the red lands and the gray lands, twisting
up into the mountains, crossing the Divide and down into the bright and
terrible desert, and across the desert to the mountains again, and into the
rich California valleys. 66 is the path of a people in flight, refugees from
dust and shrinking land, from the thunder of tractors and shrinking ownership,
from the desert’s slow northward invasion, from the twisting winds that howl up
out of Texas, from the floods that bring no richness to the land and steal what
little richness is there. From all of these the people are in flight, and they
come into 66 from the tributary side roads, from the wagon tracks and the
rutted country roads. 66 is the mother road, the road of flight.”
Now the road’s children, I-44 and
I-40 are also still roads of flight, of retirees coming down from Illinois,
Wisconsin, Indiana, Michigan, Iowa, and the Dakotas heading to points south and
west to escape the coming winter. The
road through Oklahoma is now called the Will Rogers Memorial Highway and as he
was from a town northeast of Tulsa, he undoubtedly traveled it many
times. Many have traveled the route to
California before us trying to make it big in Hollywood, but few did. Even Oklahoma’s most famous native actress Joan Crawford didn’t take it to
find fame as she was discovered as a dancer in New York City and had already
left NE Oklahoma. Famous singers like
Toby Keith (my favorite C & W singer) went the other way from Clinton OK to
Nashville but in reality, he went both ways playing the bars, honky-tonks, and
fairs before they were famous.
The trip back from Chicago was
delayed and our departure gate from O’Hare to Tulsa was changed four
times. It was 1 AM by the time we landed
and walked to our hotel near the Tulsa Airport.
After we woke, we picked the dog back up from the kennel, and tracked
down something for breakfast. Near the
dog kennel was a small manufacturing facility with the name Daylight Donuts on
the trucks.
We tracked one down which looked
like the 1980s were calling and the small shop out in the middle of nowhere on
the edge of Tulsa reminded me of the bakery in Frederic which closed sometime
during the Clinton administration. It
wasn’t much to took at and the interior was no better. We bought two donuts and two cinnamon
bearpaws. The taste test…it was a clean
and light donut, not too sticky, and best of all, no greasy aftertaste. It was okay!
Crispy
Cremes used to leave a funny aftertaste before I stopped buying them. The donuts at most convenience stores in the
upper Midwest also have this after taste.
Two coffees, a bottle of orange juice and the four donuts, the cost…just
$8.50. Quality at a good price, maybe it
was 1984? Maybe Oklahoma is okay after
all?
We drove on the famous old route through Sapulpa, home of the world’s largest gas pump, into Bristow, past DePew, and turned before we got to Stroud, where we picked our rig back up before continuing westward. Stroud is famous for having, of all things, a UFO landing pad. All of these towns feature cafes and old gas stations registered as National Historical Structures.
We took off and headed west down the
Turnpike after driving through Stroud, avoiding a repeat visit to the UFO
landing area. We made our first mistake
of the day continuing on the Turnpike instead of following I-35 into OKC and
then turning on I-40 west. The second
toll booth on the Kirkpatrick Turnpike was exact change only, we caused a back
up and then finally throwing $3 into the change hopper it never gave us a green
light but we drove on. It was impossible
to do this from the window at my rig. I
had to send my wife outside. The woman
in the other lane parked her car and walked out into our lane to use the change
machine. Cars were four deep when I
drove off and I could see her first dollar got caught up in the wind and she
was chasing it. Why not have a manned
toll booth here when the first one is manned?
Why not warn trucks and tourists to stay off this toll way, at least
give a credit card option for trucks. My
okay verdict was being negated.
After
bailing out at the first road, old highway 66 again and looking in my rear view
mirror for troopers, we finally found a way to get on I-40 and continue the
journey. I suppose I’ll get a fine from
the mail.
I
pulled off the interstate in Sayre, heading for our next stop, a very late lunch at a
second Punjabi truck-stop, the Highway 40 Truck Stop. When you think of Oklahoma I'm sure you think of donuts and Indian Cuisine...right?
The line of old wheels dividing the truck
stop from the restaurant.
I
also needed diesel and turned in towards the pumps. It seemed easy enough but before I could do
anything about it, I either went over the edge of a curb or a speed bump. Afterwards, I couldn’t figure what it was
doing there. I wasn’t moving that fast
but when the bump hit the rear tire on my side the interior compartment of the
rig was tossed violently and I heard a huge
crash. A cupboard full of dishes lay
scattered on the floor. Potato salad in
the fridge was ejected from the fridge as was a bottle spaghetti sauce didn’t
bounce. It was a disaster of broken
glass, china, food, and non-broken stuff.
After making sure all the pets had avoided the carnage we started to
clean up. One of our cats was lucky he
was in a kennel. The worst was the
freezer door wouldn’t now close properly.
After
cleanup and fuel, we decided at least to give the food a try. We went in what looked like the restaurant
and tried to order, but the guy took one look at us and said, “no for you,
other place.” He headed out the door
It was good third world curry,
bones and all. When we wanted a diet
coke, he walked over to the trucks stop to get it. I must say though, all in all, the food in
Nebraska was better, and I’m not sure I’d stop here again, mostly due too many
painful memories over the speed bump.
These truck stops still made me wonder…
Twenty-four miles later we left
Oklahoma and entered the Texas panhandle where it decided to rain, and I guess that
is all I have to say about that.
There is the “Leaning
Tower of Texas” in Groom, but, well, that is a story for another bit of prose.
You see a lot of odd things on the road when you drive, odd signs, odd people, and odd weather, and sometimes you see odd things on RVs, this picture says it all
We got all the way to Sun Valley Arizona, a town that had seen better days
and camped literally a few feet off the old Mother Highway where so many came 70 years ago
Sun Valley not to be undone by the counterpart with its same name in another state also has a "gated community" This is Arizona's idea of a gated community
So Route 66, Donuts, Goat meat, leaning towers of Texas, gated villages, and open spaces and lots and lots of species of butterflies, next stop Phoenix just a short turn south off old 66
Butterflies: 15 lifers, here are a few pretty ones, I'd seen the buckeye before
common buckeye
Red-banded skipper
Swarthy Skipper
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