Greetings from the Land of Enchantment (Part 2)!

Leavin’ on a Jet Plane. With a nightcap (e.g. carry-out coffee) in hand, and the crossword from today’s Gallup Independent mostly completed, I’m awash in the ambience and mystique of El Rancho Hotel in Gallup. This “Home of the Movie Stars” – as pronounced by the hotel’s promotional materials – has been our base camp for the last couple of days. Seagram’s busy in the parking lot checking the car’s vital signs and pre-packing gear for tomorrow’s departure – his toils well-illuminated by El Rancho’s prodigious neon displays. While in Albuquerque, and then the stretch Route 66 in western New Mexico, we’ve traveled not only into the mythic past of the highway. We also revisited the myth of our own memories and lives from younger days spent in a different way along this road.

Of course, seeing TJ off at the Albuquerque International Sunport was bittersweet. Surrounded by a totemic array that included three duffle bags, two laptops, miscellaneous taped-up boxes and his backpack – TJ and his gear created a singular tableau. Glancing back toward the car from the Sky Cap’s stand, he gave us the thumbs up sign, waved mightily, and took a long and appraising look at the Mustang. His wistful grin hinted at the enormous bond he felt with the vehicle – they were co-conspirators, sharing a secret or crafting a scheme. It astonished me that TJ was game to let Seagram and me finish the drive without him. Although the two never hit it off in earlier years, somehow in the last 48 hours they’d found common ground in this caper, and seemed surprisingly simpatico on most fronts. Perhaps some of evidence of middle age’s calming effect on the long arm of college angst and hubris…? As TJ turned around and headed into the terminal, I could tell that he was excited about embarking on his next odyssey. Being an unabashed nomad, he could never resist the call of a new adventure or challenge. And, Seagram was revved up to carry on with the mission at hand – delivering precious automotive cargo to its new home.

Duke City by Day. Since finishing college, Seagram (like TJ) had been in and out of Albuquerque countless times. But once they navigated the airport, they would immediately head north on I-25 for business, a weekend party, or a spiritual retreat. Consequently, Seagram hadn’t seen anything of ABQ proper in years. It was a given that with our combined years of residence in Albuquerque, Seagram and I were no strangers to its attractions. Driven to make up for lost time and experience what he knew well in a new way, Seagram suggested a more deliberate approach to revisiting our favorite haunts on 66 – the local edition. Thinking of his recent research and writings about the Slow Food Movement’s growth in the US, Seagram reasoned that we could apply a similar principle to our meanders. We would re-trace the steps from our UNM years along Central Avenue – literally. Catching the Route 66 bus at a stop just off Central and Tramway, we improvised a Gray Line Tour – riding west until reaching the stop nearest to Monroe and Central. Seagram relished that East Central had remained just as it was years ago – gritty, edgy, no-nonsense and wide-open. An unassuming mix of manufactured housing outlets, independent mechanics, small businesses, chain motels and fast food spots persisted and thrived, even if the signs and storefronts changed with some regularity. As we continued farther west, the concentration of mom and pop restaurants stood out to us more, as did the number of old motor courts and inns in various stages of repair. Ghosts of our past lives met us at corner after corner. Our ersatz bus tour drew past Griff’s (where one of Seagram’s friends fortified himself each night on a double burger and rings before starting his shift as night auditor at a nearby motel), the State Fair Grounds (Seagram had worked as a seasonal employee at the race track), and then the tall beacon that we will always call the First National Bank building, (even thought it now carries Bank of the West’s name). After exiting the bus near Monroe, we walked to the Hiland Theater and admired its grand, if empty marquee. Both of us recalled more than one occasion in the 1980s when we waited in lines that wrapped around the old Walgreen’s store (and then along the east side of the building) to see blockbuster movies on the venue’s huge screen. We returned to our westward walk – with Seagram remembering low-on-the-line-up touring bands that stayed at the Zia Motel and old Ramada Inn long before they lapsed into sketchy destinations and were razed. He was relieved to find the De Anza remained somewhat in tact; his grandparents stayed there when visiting snowbird friends in the 1960s and 1970s. Intrigued to see how other area motor courts had been re-purposed, Seagram felt an immediate kinship with the Aztec Motel’s outsider/folk art flourishes.

Continuing on past Carlisle, we picked up a snack at La Montanita Co-op in the Nob Hill Business Center, and took an inventory of chic and whimsical store fronts as we munched and walked. We figured that we’d officially entered the University area as we strode beneath the neon Route 66 “arch” that spans Central just each of Girard. Memories flooded into our conversation as our path crossed Harvard: record buying jags at Budget Tapes & Records, scoring concert tickets and jeans at the General Store, raucous nights at Okie Joe’s, pre-Starbuck’s era espresso at the Purple Hippo, and the parade of hippies, heads, iconoclasts and poets who waved their freak flags high and mighty at Yale Park. On the block west of Yale, we fell into peels of laugher walking past what had been Don Pancho’s Theatre. Who could say how many times we’d seen the revival house’s double-feature of “The Last Waltz” and “No Nukes”, or how many friends we knew who’d had a vehicle towed from the parking lot designated for customers of the St. Germain “Purple Flame” laundry. We both recalled a morning spent recovering a car from savage and towing lots on South Broadway. After a fashion we again boarded the 66 bus, and took in the landmarks of Huning-Highland, Downtown (especially the KiMo Theatre), the Country Club area, and Old Town. The tour ended with an early evening dinner at Dog House drive-in. The neon sign had just lit up – with the wiener dog ardently munching on a string of frankfurters while his tail wagged in delight.

Westward Ho. With the Mustang freshly fueled and detailed, we made an early departure from Albuquerque, ascending Nine Mile Hill with a sense of expectation and curiosity as to the sights and experiences that we’d meet ahead. Driving west, we kept a log of Route 66 landmarks and points of interest. Seagram envisioned a travelogue project that he could build from our brief observations and recordings – a collage that deconstructed traditional postcard elements into discrete blasts of text and image. He liked to do this with the classic French dishes he was adept at cooking – his streak of culinary anarchy shining through. Along the way we walked across the historic Rio Puerco bridge and admired scenic views of Laguna Pueblo. Seeing the exit to Cubero, Seagram noted that Ernest Hemingway worked on The Old Man and Sea there. Farther on we stopped to inspect and photograph the old Whiting Brothers sign between McCartys and San Fidel, and diverted to Acoma Pueblo’s Sky City Cultural Center and Haaku Museum. By this point along the highway, we’d enjoyed regular sightings of trains – both BNSF freight and Amtrak. Trainspotting was officially adopted as our version of the license plate game – with the passenger dutifully calling out and recording train engines as they appeared. In Grants we visited the New Mexico Mining Museum, learning about the mechanics and logistics of working underground in this risky, but potentially profitable, pursuit. We also took time to hike and explore Mount Taylor – one of four sacred mountains to the Navajo. And after a tasty repast at El Cafecito, we headed to our lodging. We both ended the day by imaging the postcards that we would write that night to share such a comfortable and engaging fall day.

Red Rocks Rock. We’d decided to stay in Gallup for a few days. Seagram’s schedule included two more weeks of down time, and he seemed to revel in taking what he termed an “olde time car trip.” One of the reasons he left the east for college was the mythic call of the West. Seagram’s family traveled extensively in Europe when he was young – but until his arrival in New Mexico as a UNM freshman he’d never been west of the Mississippi. He loved the Mustang, was in his groove, and was hungry for more. The town and place name signs we passed en route to Gallup seemed like poetry to Seagram – word magnets that you could re-arrange on a refrigerator: Milan, Bluewater, Prewitt, Thoreau (pronounced “threw” we both announced), the Continental Divide, and our favorite – Iyanbito. Seagram was enthralled by El Rancho. With hundreds of celebrity photos decorating the dark wood walls of the lobby and halls, he felt transported to the pages of an old movie magazine – or even one of the B movies that had been filmed in the area during the “golden years of cinema”. The guest room appointments in the original section of the hotel – twin wagon wheel headboards, heavily lacquered western-style furniture, and original tile and fittings in the bathrooms – made it all the more vivid and transporting. Our days included a trip to the Zuni Mountains, and hiking the Pyramid Rock Trail plus the High Desert Trail System. We also poured over hundreds of jewelry creations from Zuni, Navajo and Hopi artists at trading posts such as Richardson’s, Perry Null and Joe Milo’s. Seagram caved, and become the proud owner of a handsome and substantial thunderbird bolo tie. When we were overwhelmed by the fun of those explorations in addition to downtown walks, or trainspotting time at the old station between the tracks and US 66, we fell into a table at the venerable Earl’s Restaurant. What could be better than a promise of a hearty, square meal fulfilled at any time of day? We discovered beautiful handmade jewelry, arts and crafts sold by Native artists through Earl’s vendor program (shop along the front of the building, or from your table as artisan’s and their family members stop by to showcase their creations). And, we were charmed by the end note of a free desert (jello or soft serve) after the filling fare of New Mexican favorites or down-home American entrees.

As with our separation from TJ, leaving New Mexico is bittersweet. You miss the familiar places and people you’ve come to know and value…but you also can’t help to wonder with excitement might be waiting down the road. Maybe that’s why I always find myself coming back to New Mexico; the adventures and their allure are abundant, but there’s no place like home.

Greetings from the Land of Enchantment (Part 1)!

A Twist in the Road… As I write this missive, the evening finds me reflecting on the turn of events that led to an extended “stopover” in Albuquerque. While waiting on my blue plate special – and my dining companions – I’m enjoying the cool comfort of a classic chocolate shake at the retro-themed 66 Diner on Central Avenue. A welcome bit of calm after the unexpectedly action-packed couple of days we experienced in eastern New Mexico.

Heading west from Amarillo, the strategy for our New Mexico portion of the journey was simple: take a leisurely pace on the road so we could fully experience areas of New Mexico that, admittedly, we both didn’t know well. Our first stop after leaving Texas was the historic agricultural community of San Jon. It seemed that the time was right to see the home of high school sports teams we’d heard about on the weekend newscasts over years. After making our rounds of the building relics that once thrived along old highway 66 – and breaking out our Thermos of fresh coffee (a vintage container that Emily gave to TJ as a token of our trip… be it noted that each pour from this talisman has been unfailingly hot and flavorful!) – TJ received an urgent text from his business partner in L.A. They’d been chasing a very lucrative international web design and marketing account for more than a year, and their persistence had finally paid off. The client had agreed to terms and signed the contract, but in doing so stipulated a very aggressive timetable for getting the account up and going. Meetings were imminent and required TJ’s presence…now if not sooner. As we left San Jon and headed for Tucumcari, I took the wheel while TJ texted and phoned contacts (where he had cell service…) trying to figure out his next moves. It was safe to say that the party was over, and it was time to turn out the fanciful neon lights.

Putting the “T” in Tourist. Even though we were facing a detour that exceeded any of the road work or re-routing we’d encountered since leaving Chicago, TJ insisted that we remain true to our mission, and maximize the miles leading up to Albuquerque. First on the itinerary was an overnight stop in Tucumcari – which introduced us to the Blue Swallow Motel. TJ had seen it featured in a number of magazines and travel guides as an authentic taste of historic Route 66 motor inns. Once you see photos of the bright neon sign bearing the motel’s name sake, who could make another choice for the night? Luckily we were able to check in early – TJ immediately set up an impromptu work space and tapped into the motel’s WIFI. After making sure he was provisioned for the afternoon with appropriate levels of beverages and snacks, I set out to investigate a number of sites recommended by The Blue Swallow innkeepers as must-see local spots. Leading off my impromptu tour was the Tucumcari Historical Museum. Occupying a three-floor 1903 school house, the museum showcases exemplars of local and cultural history – continuing the building’s educational role in the community. My camera couldn’t resist a one-of-a-kind tribute to Tucumcari – the sculptural Route 66 Roadside Attraction at the Convention Center. This mighty work is a visually engaging riff on tail fins and tires and all the sweet rides that have driven this roadway over the years. At three stories tall, it’s an impressive commemoration of the area’s roadside heritage and history. The most unexpected treasure of this meander was the Mesalands Community College Dinosaur Museum. This site features the world’s largest collection of full-scale bronze dinosaur skeletons, all cast at a local foundry. Talk about history living large! When I returned to the motel, TJ was in the lobby sending a fax, and exchanging car collecting tips and boasts with the desk clerk. Over dinner at Del’s Restaurant, TJ ran down the timetable he’d devised to push forward on his work. Amidst the details, we both relished our New Mexican entrees – the first chile we'd had in weeks! Established 1956, Del’s continues to make famished travelers (and locals) feel at home. You can’t miss this hospitable spot from the road – look for the big steer atop the large red sign, and the ornamental neon lighting up the building’s eaves.

An early start the next day ensured that we would make it to Albuquerque in time for TJ to pull a few logistical loose ends together, and be on his way the following morning. At this point the most compelling unknown wasn’t the fate of our road trip (game over, apparently) – but how the Mustang would get to L.A. TJ remained resolute to complete trip with the car, so was thinking about storing it until he could return and pick it up. Not surprisingly, we spent 45 minutes discussing the dimensions and security of my garage – as well as those of numerous mutual friends in Albuquerque. Even with this question mark lurking on the horizon, TJ reiterated wanting to make the most of what suddenly seemed to be his last day on the road. Driving west of Tucumcari, we admired the bluffs of the Llano Estacado – the Staked Plains – and took a bit of time to see the ghost service stations at Newkirk and Montoya. The centerpiece of our morning was a detour into Santa Rosa, the “City of Natural Lakes”. Tempting as it was to dive in, we instead enjoyed an above-ground view of the city’s phenomenal Blue Hole. Earnest scuba divers were taking the plunge into waters that reach a depth of 80’, and keep to a constant temperature of 64 degrees. Amazing to discover that even in this arid plains locale, the Blue Hole is comparable to 100’ of ocean depth. Although we had to miss the show of night lights, we were sure to catch a daytime glimpse of notable neon signs dispersed throughout the town, including sites such as the Sun ‘n Sand Motel and the Comet II Restaurant. We also visited the “Bless Me Ultima” Rudolfo Anaya Landscape Park – where a variety of birds were making the most of its fountain and sculpture. We imagined how cool it would be to attend a reading by Mr. Anaya in the park commemorating his masterful work. For lunch we enjoyed a taste of home (e.g. chile) at Joseph’s Bar and Grill, which remembers the legendary Club Café (complete with the revered “Fat Man” sign). Having stoked up on chile verde y rojo, we knew we’d be good to go until we could enjoy our platos favoritos in ABQ. And once back on the highway, we were careful to find the railroad bridge west of town used in John Ford’s “The Grapes of Wrath”. It’s the vantage point from which Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) watches a freight train cross the Pecos River at sunset.

Plan B… or, the Magic 8 Ball Speaks. On our final approach into the Duke City, we made a quick stop for salty snacks and sweet fizzy drinks at Clines Corners. A familiar roadside diversion to generations of travelers, this highway oasis continues to purvey gas, food, and souvenirs under an eye-catching (and immense) red sign. Roy Cline’s original gas station opened in Lucy, NM – and then moved two times before finding its home at the junction of US 285 and I-40. TJ used this stop as a chance to stock up on trip mementos and curios for friends and associates in L.A. Thinking this was the Route 66 version of hitting the newsstands and duty free shops at an airport, it occurred to me that within days TJ would be in Singapore or Hong Kong doing the same thing – munching on starchy wedges, looking for small tokens of adventure… and wondering if he’d make his flight. With bodies and minds back on Route 66 proper, we rolled on through Moriarity, Edgewood and Tijeras Canyon. Emerging from the western-most part of the canyon, we both were both excited to see Albuquerque and the Rio Grande Valley open up before us. No doubt about it – we were motoring into the rich pageant of life that is Central Avenue – a character in its own right, with a mix of culture, built environment and history without parallel. Although we had friends and accommodations waiting for us, our first order of business was dinner at the iconic Frontier Restaurant, on Central across from UNM. We found a window booth in the original dining room, and while TJ collected utensils after we ordered, I found a solution to his dilemma with the car. In the next booth sat a lean and lanky 6’2” figure with considerable gray in his short wavy hair. I couldn’t resist interrupting his conversation and asking in a sardonic tone, “are you still working here?” The guy stood up, and with a sideways grin and mock sneer offered the rejoinder “…are you still eating here?” It was my college friend Seagram. Since his days as a short order cook at the Frontier, he’d gone on to culinary school, cooked in both high- and low-brow NY restaurants, managed concert tours for small indie bands, and now produced documentary and cable TV shows. Talk about a hip cat with nine lives. My hunch was pretty strong that he needed an angle for one of his upcoming adventures, and that TJ was just the source to supply the goods.

Viva la City Different! As it turned out, TJ was able to delay his departure by a day and in order to save some money. This reprieve bought some time for another day of meanders, for and scheming with Seagram. We decided to shoot the works and make a day trip to Santa Fe, once a bona fide stop along the Mother Road. Instead of driving (the Mustang was safely ensconced in a friend’s garage), we took the Rail Runner north, and marveled not only at the scenery but also the orbs that surrounded us aloft – flying in the annual Balloon Fiesta. TJ had a number of family members he wanted to see in the City Different, and Seagram wanted to soak in the Plaza, catch up, and talk about future projects. He and I would do Albuquerque justice before we set off to on the final stage of what had become the Mustang’s journey to its new home. By the time we pulled into the Depot station, the guys had thoroughly reviewed the needs of the car, the official delivery route, and how to respond to unexpected automotive scenarios. TJ’s cousins met him, leaving Seagram and me to walk downtown. We tracked down brown “Pre-1937” road signs noting Santa Fe’s early role along the Mother Road, before the alignment changed and went south. After touring La Fonda, the history and art museums, and having a lively lunch at the famed Plaza Café, we met up with TJ at the Depot, and headed and hour south with commuters and tourists alike. Relishing some time to myself, I walked around Downtown after we disembarked from the train at the Alvarado station. The guys took off to deal with car and logistical issues, and I soaked in the rhythm and bustle of the city center. Walking up Central to the 66 Diner proved an invigorating departure from our front seat view of the road over the past few weeks. Psyched and stoked for the adventures we all had ahead, I dropped into a booth at the 66 in time to see the sun set over the West Mesa. The glowing sky of orange, purple and pink was a definite sign that good things were ahead.