Day 15 - Ogden and Park City, UT

Ultra Utah

Years ago in Chicago there used to be a TV ad for an Indiana amusement park. At the end, the fun-loving crow who'd guided viewers through all the adventures awaiting them would alight next to the park's logo, lean against it, and say, "There's more to Indiana than corn!"

Which is my roundabout way of saying there's more to Utah than what I've already discussed.

After vacating the World Horror premises, I drove pal John Hornor Jacobs to the airport, then continued north to Ogden, where a former (I won't use the word "old" in order to protect both of our dignities) college roommate currently lives.

Let me just say I love me some Scottie Barnard. His mom, Karen -- who also lives in Ogden -- is a lovely person as well. And they were delightful hosts during the 36 hours or so I stayed with them in their home nestled beneath the mountains.

Sunday night they treated to me to a great dinner at a local barbecue chain called Good Wood, and on Monday Scott took the wheel to deliver a custom tour.

First stop, the SLC Public Library, an incredible public space designed by Moshe Safdie, architect of the still amazing Habitat 67 in Montreal. The building, with its dizzying atrium and gravity-defying staircases is filled with light and air, and brings to mind some of the other high-flown adventures I've encountered on this trip.

I love that it's a contemporary building. Seeing it makes me grieve anew the opportunity Chicago threw away when it chose Thomas Beeby's design for our own new main library back in the 1990s. Whereas Chicago's library purposefully looked back to designs from the previous hundred years for inspiration, Salt Lake City obviously has its eye on the future.

That doesn't mean there's no room for cozy touches, like this trio of fireplaces that occupy the far corner of all the floors and resemble a column of flame when viewed from the exterior. While we were there, Scott said a bomb was set off a bomb at this spot in the library a few years ago.

The library is designed so that the more public -- and noisy -- areas are clustered on the lower floors, so that the building grows more peaceful and quiet as you reach the higher levels. It even has a small shopping center nestled on its ground floor that extends out onto the plaza surrounding the building's back area.

While the main library occupies a soaring space, Safdie wisely located the children's section in an intimate area of the basement. Though the children's section can be opened to the full height of the atrium above, it can also be closed off by a series of fabric panels, shown here. (When I asked how the panels were moved back and forth, thinking there was some mechanism there I couldn't detect, the librarian wryly told me it was done with a pole. Judging from her expression, I'm guessing it's not her favorite part of the job.)

The library's front arched wall continues outside the building, to create an elevated walking path to and from the plaza that was, unfortunately or not, closed that day due to snow. But here's a pic of Scott posing in front of it just the same.

Note Scott's clothing for just a moment, and let me comment on an odd Utah phenomenon: when it's cold, it's not really cold. Not like it gets in Chicago. Sure, it's crisp, the way apple cider and fall leaves can be crisp, but the chill doesn't cut down to the bone the way it does here. Everyone I asked about it credited the mountains and Utah's dry air, then went on a tear about how much lotion they go through in the course of a week. Still, it seems a small price to pay for the privilege of walking around in a flannel shirt when the thermometer swears it's only 37 degrees. But I digress.

Here's a professionally taken picture of the back of the library, showing it off to better advantage than I ever could. Well done, Salt Lake City!

From here, it was on to Park City, home of the Sundance Film Festival and an odd race of blonde cougars in down vests and Ugg boots that stalk the city streets. It was Scott who pointed out that all the women in Park City look alike, and he was right. I should have taken a picture or two, but was just too struck by their sun- and snow-kissed uniformity to even think of pulling out my camera.

But Park City is great, and after walking up and down its small but obviously well-moneyed strip, I can imagine how the Hollywood types eat it up as some exotic outpost. In some ways, it reminded me of Galena, Illinois, another hilly, former mining town that has since been turned into an historic outdoor mall.

Yeah, we did some shopping, and when it was done we returned, tired but happy, to Ogden. Scott's mom went to see her beloved Utah Jazz play, and Scott and I made dinner and watched Jackass 2.5 on demand. It was almost like being at home, something I was beginning to miss something fierce.

The next day I planned to make the drive to Denver to see another former college roommate. But I had a big adventure awaiting me throughout Wyoming first. One I wasn't going to enjoy.

Day 6 - Albuquerque, NM to Flagstaff, AZ

Desert Driving

Aside from movies and Roadrunner cartoons, I've never seen the desert. I've always wanted to though, ever since an astrologer told me in 1984 or '85 that I'd be happiest there. (It hasn't happened yet. I've lived in Chicago since 1986.)

But this isn't quite what I was expecting. Yeah, it looks pretty dry and barren, but where are the dramatic rock formations? The incredible colors? Though I'm hardly an expert, this is more like what I would call scrubland than desert.

But if you're making your way from Albuquerque to Flagstaff, this is the desert you get. Seemingly endless miles and miles of it. You start to understand just how big this country is, how awed and courageous the pioneers must have been when they confronted it, and how isolated the modern-day people who live in the few towns along the way must feel.

As we neared Flagstaff, things did start to change. Mountains -- or what passes for them here -- started to appear in the distance. And every so often we'd get an interesting rock formation like this one. You take what you get on this stretch of the road, and we were happy for them.

On the whole, however, there are long and uninterrupted stretches of scrubland/desert. If you see a roadside attraction that looks the least bit interesting -- like this one -- you stop and admire whatever it has to offer. Like we did.


And if that roadside attraction has wooden reproductions of teepees where you can sit Indian style and have your picture taken, all the better. That's Jonathan, my traveling companion, getting into the Southwestern spirit.

It's this unrelieved desert driving that makes Gallup, New Mexico so appealing to the weary traveler, and the El Rancho motel and restaurant such a tempting place to stop.

Built in 1937, the El Rancho was one of the places to stop during Route 66's heyday, and was a frequent host to many movie stars of the time -- a fact the El Rancho is justifiably proud of and still celebrates with many autographed photos of the greats.

The place has been meticulously maintained and in addition to the hotel offers a restaurant, gift store and incredible two-story lobby that looks just like what you'd imagine a "wilderness hotel" lobby would look like. Rough-hewn beams make up the staircase and railings, animal heads and Indian blankets decorate the walls, lodge-like furnishings are everywhere.

We only have one picture of the lobby, and unfortunately it's this one. But you get the idea.

There's only one other major Route 66 stop on the way to Flagstaff: the Jackrabbit Trading Post. When Route 66 was hoppin', it wasn't unusual to see signs for the Jackrabbit for miles and miles before you actually got to it.

In this way, the Jackrabbit is sort of the Route 66 Wall Drug, and by the time you finally get to it and this sign appears on the road, you're pretty much powerless to to do anything other than stop and get a look.

And maybe an embarrassing picture of yourself -- paunch and all -- riding that big fiberglass rabbit out in front of the store. It was Easter Sunday when we drove by, and the Jackrabbit was, not surprisingly, closed. Too bad. We could have used some water and authentic turquoise jewelery and kachina dolls at this point in the trip. We were still quite a ways from Flagstaff.

Day 5 - Elk City, OK to Albuquerque, NM

The Drive-Bys

Things started getting weird as we neared the Texas border.

Erick, Oklahoma is the last town in Oklahoma and a well-known stop along Route 66, mainly because of the Sandhills Curiosity Shop and its owner/operators, The Mediocre Music Makers. Legend has it if you stop by during business hours the MMMs will welcome you to Erick and serenade you with songs. But it wasn't quite eight in the morning when we got there, and the shop was closed and the MMMs were no where to be seen.

Without the MMMs, Erick didn't present itself as an especially friendly place. We got coffee in a convenience store in town, and were greeted by a scowling group of old men in bib jeans and trucker caps, none of it worn ironically.

We saw what remains of the West Winds Motel on the outskirts of Erick, and because I was still charmed by American Ruins at this point in the trip, we stopped to take pictures of it. The place was incredible -- still in relatively good shape, but abandoned. There was a beautiful old car parked in one of the car ports next to a cabin. It was both frozen in time and ravaged by it.

This was the house next door, and that should have been my hint that trouble was on the way. Before long a mean old dog started barking at me, and then a guy came out of the house and yelled at me for being on his property. I believe a comment was made about "you people and your damn pictures." I quickly apologized and we left Erick, foolishly hoping that Texas would be better.

Shamrock is just over the state line, and we were greeted there by another snarling, barking dog. This one ran out onto the highway and nearly lost his life under the tires of my PT Cruiser. A typical Texas welcome, I suppose.

Shamrock is home to the U Drop Inn, another one of Route 66's legendary stops. The Art Deco building housed a gas station and a restaurant. It was recently refurbished and Shamrock did a great job of it, but the place seemed to be abandoned despite that. Maybe it's waiting for the busy season. Or maybe the rehab didn't do the trick after all.

Here's a view of the diner. Can you believe this was taken from outside, through a window? We would have gladly had breakfast here, but had to settle for the McDonald's on the other side of town. There were many scowling men in bib jeans and trucker hats there, too. By the time I finished up by McSkillet Burrito, we were definitely feeling unwelcome, and sorry that we still had to drive through the rest of Texas.

We decided to get through Texas as quickly as possible, seeing as how the state didn't seem to be welcoming us that warmly and that I've never been a fan of the state. They say everything is big in Texas, and I believe that includes the jerks as well.

Amarillo has two well-known Route 66 stops, the Big Texan steakhouse and the Cadillac Ranch. I was looking forward to the Big Texan, because I was hungry for a steak, but we couldn't find it. And the Cadillac Ranch (where a line of old Cadillacs have been half-buried in the ground) was on the other side of the highway. But we did find this one great old sign. I'm sure Amarillo has many other charming sights, but we didn't see them.

Adrian, Texas is one of two places along Route 66 that boast of being the midpoint between Chicago and Los Angeles. I can't remember what the first one is called, but the second (as you travel west) is in Adrian. The Midpoint Cafe is famous for its "ugly crust" pies, and we stopped there for a piece. The pie was good enough, but the crust was not particularly ugly. No one explained it to me and I wasn't in the mood to ask.

There's a sign outside the cafe showing the miles to Los Angeles and Chicago. I'm sure many people get their picture taken next to it, just like I did. It's the law.

Once we left Adrian, the landscape started to change. I mean, really change. I've never been to the American Southwest and all along I'd been looking forward to seeing the desert. All through Missouri, Oklahoma and Texas things didn't seem that different. Then, suddenly, everything did seem different.

Unfortunately, I do not have pictures of this.

Tucumcari, New Mexico is a charming little town with a lot of Route 66 lore to it. The Tepee Curio Shop is one famous place on the way, and if you're looking for sterling silver and turquoise jewelry, kachina dolls, serapes and Route 66 shot glasses sold with an air of indifference, this is your place.

Tucumcari is also home to many old Route 66 motels -- most of them, sadly, closed up -- and one that's still managing to make a go of it.

The Blue Swallow not only looks good from the street, it's cute when you get close up, too, something of a rarity for some of these places. I wish we'd been situated better in our trip so that we could have stopped and stayed the night here. The owners seem like nice people who get a kick out of maintaining an important piece of Route 66 history and sharing it with like-minded travelers. But the road called. We wanted to get to Albuquerque, New Mexico before the day was done, and so, after a fair amount of himming and hawing, we left Tucumcari and continued our drive west. Still, leaving it behind felt like a betrayal of everything we made the trip for.

We've tried to follow Route 66 as much as possible during this trip, but it can sometimes be a frustrating experience. The road officially no longer exists, though each state has made varying efforts to keep it signed for adventurous travelers like us. Still, there are times when things simply stop and you find yourself some place like this, forced to backtrack and, more often than you'd like, follow the Interstate for a while.

One of the strangest things we saw on this trip happened somewhere between Tucumcari and Albuquerque. We were driving along the Interstate when we saw something that looked from the rear like a Chicago Transit Authority bus. A few moments later we were shocked to find out that it actually was CTA bus. What is was doing here we have no idea. (But I'm putting in a call to the CTA to find out exactly what was going on.) Though people often misuse the word "surreal," this is one occasion when the word fits. This is exactly the same type of bus Chicagoans see trundling up and down the streets of Chicago, usually at a snail's pace and packed with unhappy commuters. To see it empty and moving at 65 miles an hour, in the middle of the New Mexico desert, was nothing short of bizarre.

Hours later we found ourselves in Albuquerque, which was definitely one of the most attractive cities we've seen on the Route. We could have spent days here and still not seen and appreciated it all.

Unfortunately, by the time we got here we were tired and cranky and needed to find a hotel and weren't in the mood to stop and take any photos regardless of how great this sign was or how charming that little motel appeared. This is a real shame, because Albuquerque was packed with great old signs and charming little motels and diners and all manner of other attractions.

I admit, cooler heads should have prevailed. I should have put on the brakes and taken more photos, and if I had it to do over again we would have. But we didn't. My bad. Another regret for something missed along a road that could be filled with them. There's that much stuff to see.

Day 4 - Oklahoma City, OK to Elk City, OK

The Big Slow Down

Our best intentions to make some good time and distance today weren't good enough. I don't know how far we got in terms of miles, but we never managed to leave the state of Oklahoma.

We started in Oklahoma City, where I wanted to see the memorial to the Murrah Federal Building bombing. I'd heard that this was a particularly sensitive and well thought-out memorial and wasn't disappointed by what we saw.

The memorial space is flanked by two large gates. One with the time of 9:01 on it, the other with 9:03. This is because the bomb went off at 9:02, so in effect, the entire installation memorializes that moment in time.

Inside, the memorial is laid out to reflect what was present at the site prior to the destruction. So the reflecting pool indicates where Fifth Street used to run, and the field of empty chairs occupies the area where the Alfred P. Murrah building used to stand.

All in all, the memorial is very thoughtful. Perhaps a little too much so, because you soon start to realize that everything in the memorial is symbolic of something else: an original wall from the building represents the survivors, an orchard represents those who came to the rescue. There's even a section that represents everyone else -- that's actually what the brochure says. Still, it's an incredibly well put-together memorial, and worth a visit if you happen to find yourself in Oklahoma City.

There are Route 66 museums along the way -- boy are there -- and if you're anything like us you can't help but stop at one or two. This one is in Clinton, Oklahoma. It's staffed by a trio of smiling and helpful older women whose hair is "set" and will happily tell you to take all the photos you want. We did. The admission price is fair -- about $3 I think -- and the gift shop is well stocked to satisfy all your Route 66 memorabilia needs.

This is a good indication of what awaits the curious visitor inside. Thank goodness someone has saved and is displaying some of these items, because otherwise all we'd have left of them are photos.

Just a few miles down the road (or maybe it was a couple hundred, it's hard to remember) in Elk City, Oklahoma is another Route 66 museum. This one is much bigger, and incorporates a series of four museums and a large "village" of historical buildings. You can't miss it, because the sign is enormous.

We only toured the village -- partly because we were museumed out and partly because it was free. (Also, because the woman who was in charge wasn't very friendly, didn't do a very good job of explaining what was in the different museums, and seemed to be having a personal crisis on the other end of her cell phone.) It's a charming little complex, complete with a gas station, a grocery, lawyer's and doctor's offices, a schoolhouse, a church, a barbershop, a rooming house and -- for no reason we could determine -- a disturbing number of undertakers.

Here's a look inside one of the undertakers' offices. This is just one of many mannequins that were on display, and all were as lifeless and creepy as this one. My advice is simple here: get rid of them. This is supposed to be a ghost town, not a zombie metropolis.

We spent the night in Elk City, at a place called the Red Carpet Inn. It was cheap in every aspect of the word, and a fair number of the guests were full-time residents, judging from the number of cats we saw looking out from the rooms' windows at the empty pool and courtyard in the center. We stayed in our room, sprayed the place with Febreze, and hoped for the best.

Day 3 - Joplin, MO to Oklahoma City, OK

American Ruins

Mom and pop businesses used to thrive on Route 66. Most of them have disappeared, but a lucky few have only deteriorated. This is, for me, part of Route 66's appeal. But it can get a little creepy and depressing, as it did today.

We started with this lovely piece of faded neon. I miss the time when a mobile home park was worthy of a stylish and attention-getting sign like this one. It would have made living in a trailer seem somehow very modern.

This is Commerce, Oklahoma, birthplace of Micky Mantle, and this is how a lot of small towns on Route 66 look: like you are driving into The Last Picture Show.

This is the Ku-Ku in Miami, Oklahoma. The restaurant is just as cool as the sign. I have to think that the name has nothing to do with the Ku Klux Klan, because I had a delicious lunch there and the people were kind.

Time for old signs. That's me beneath. There are still cabins behind the main building, and the woman who lived there said she wished she had a dollar for everyone who stopped to take a picture of the sign. Like a lot of people we've met, it looked like she could use the money.

We found this place on the other side of town, and it was in much worse shape. There were only three little white brick cabins still standing. The woman across the street was pretending like she was washing her windows, but what she was really doing was watching the out-of-towners take photos of the eyesore right outside her front door.

This is one of the cabins. They're filled with old tires and furniture and junk. That's me outside, looking like I've just spent a restful evening at the Avon Motel. It may not look like much, but the price was right!

Someplace in the middle of nowhere we found this. The sign is in incredibly good shape -- porcelain enamel is a wondrous material. The sign looks particularly good in light of how decrepit the rest of the place was.

This is the giant blue whale in Catoosa, Oklahoma. I guess this place used to be a popular swimming hole once upon a time, but no more. Now the blue whale will just scratch your sunglasses.


This is Pops, in Arcadia, Oklahoma. That's a giant pop bottle with a straw poking out of the top on the left. It lights up at night, and I'm sorry there isn't a picture of that because I bet it's pretty sharp. Pops is just down the road from the famous round barn. It's one of the few new places along Route 66 and a sign of new life and interest in the old road. It's amazing, with a brilliant but simple gimmick: they offer over 500 kinds of soda pop to go with your hamburger, grilled cheese, fries and pie. Guess what -- there's also a gift shop. Come one, come all!

After so much decay, it was refreshing to find a place so fresh and contemporary. I couldn't not visit.

It's incredibly modern inside. I loved it. We would have eaten there but it was swamped, which is a great thing. Someone has figured out how to make money off of Route 66 again. I wish them luck.

Day 2 - St. Louis, MO to Joplin, MO

"Lostalgia"

Route 66's fortunes have gone from non-existent to up to down and, recently, back up again with the resurgence of interest in all things classically American.

Tiny towns along the way -- who saw their own fortunes fall when the new interstate highways passed them by and eventually led to Route 66's decommissioning -- are now doing their best to recapture the glory days of old. I like to call the emotion they appeal to as "lostalgia," that wistful feeling for an America that used to be but is almost entirely no more.

Cuba, Missouri is one such town, and deserves credit for appealing to lostalgia in an original way -- with murals. An even dozen of them to date with more on the way. This picture above is one example. From a distance, it almost looks real -- especially with that sharp Dodge Dart parked in front of it.

But look closer and it seems this mural commemorates a time when hollow-eyed zombies roamed the streets.

Now, I mentioned floods yesterday. After leaving St. Louis we soon found out that the news stories were just the beginning. Our much-anticipated visit to Meramec Caverns was cut short when workers from the Missouri Department of Transportation informed us that water as high as the top of our car was covering the road.

Here's an example of what we saw at nearly every bridge we crossed, taken in Devil's Elbow, Missouri. The photo really doesn't do justice to the raging rapids threatening to overtake the pavement. It was like this everywhere.

Missouri is Bible Belt country. We saw evidence of this at almost every turn, where billboards proclaim that Christ is Lord, or quote favorite Bible verses, or, in the case of this one positioned directly across from an adult bookstore, remind us that pornography makes the Baby Jesus cry. And little girls turn into sluts.

The sun didn't come out until we'd had lunch at this place. Inside it was decorated in black and white floor tiles and pictures of classic cars, Marilyn Monroe and James Dean. There seems to be a tacit understanding among the natives that these things all go together.

Route 66 is lined with ruins (more on that in the next post). We happened upon the remainders of this structure some time in the afternoon and couldn't resist exploring it. We later found out that it used to be a funeral home and casket factory.

A few more miles down the road and we ran into this charming reproduction gas station, presided over by Gary Turner. Gary and his brother built the station on the same ground once occupied by a similar station called the "Gay Parita."

This is Gary. He spends his days inside the station, dressed in a vintage Sinclair Gas uniform, regaling Route 66 travelers with tales of the old road, hand-signing photos and recommending places to visit along the way. Gary is the one who told us the stone building used to be a funeral home.

Gary gave us directions to a place called Red Oak, a small town purchased in its entirety by a local artist, which was supposed to be filled with found-object art and amazing flying machines and all kinds of wonders and curiosities. We couldn't find it. But we did find this.

Our last stop prior to turning for the evening was the Precious Moments Chapel. We were both saddened and relieved to find that it was closed for the day. I don't know if I could have handled this much earnest cuteness.