In September 2021, son David and I hit the road on a five-day cross-country adventure. We traveled through seven states, from Arizona to North Carolina, with overnight stays in Amarillo, Conway, Nashville, and Knoxville. The scenery was beautiful and the weather grand, and along the way we visited a handful of great attractions. Click HERE to read a short introduction to our great adventure.
“On the Road to Amarillo” is the first in a series of stories.
“On the Road to Amarillo” is the first in a series of stories.
Cadillac Ranch
Amarillo, Texas (Monday, September 13, 2021) David and I reached Amarillo late afternoon, about 570 miles east of Show Low, Arizona, where we started our cross-country trip this morning.
There’s a yellow rose in Texas that I am gonna see.
Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me.
She cried, so when I left her, it likes to broke my heart.
And if I ever find her, we nevermore will part
~ From an early version of The Yellow Rose of Texas
Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me.
She cried, so when I left her, it likes to broke my heart.
And if I ever find her, we nevermore will part
~ From an early version of The Yellow Rose of Texas
Amarillo, which was settled in the 1880s, has many nicknames, including “Helium Capital of the World,” “Bomb City,” and “Rotor City, USA.” The nickname I liked best, though, was “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” a nod, most likely, to the yellow wildflowers that bloom during the spring and summer months, a sight we sadly missed on this fall day.
Uh oh! I jumped ahead of myself in sharing the story of our first day on the road to Charlotte, so let me take you back to the beginning and bring you forward as our day unfolded.
Uh oh! I jumped ahead of myself in sharing the story of our first day on the road to Charlotte, so let me take you back to the beginning and bring you forward as our day unfolded.
David spent the weekend with Debra and me at our home in Show Low, a small town in the White Mountains of eastern Arizona. We reminisced about the places we’ve been, things we’ve done, and fun times we’ve had. Great stories, lots of yuks, and fond memories! Debra shed a few tears, too, as her “little boy” (after all, he’s only 38!) was moving 2,000 miles away to Charlotte.
Our road trip started at 7 this morning with David at the wheel. The weather was beautiful – about 60 degrees with a slight breeze and clear blue sky.
Our road trip started at 7 this morning with David at the wheel. The weather was beautiful – about 60 degrees with a slight breeze and clear blue sky.
We headed north from Show Low on AZ-180, past the towns of Taylor and Snowflake, toward Holbrook, which sits along the banks of the Little Colorado River. As we neared this town of 5,000, I said to David, “Look to your left. Do you see the triangular structures that look like wigwams?” They were barely visible among the commercial buildings, but he saw them.
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“That’s the Wigwam Motel, part of a small chain built in the 1930s and 1940s,” I continued. I showed this photo to David, which I took in 2009 when Debra and I spent a few days sightseeing in northern Arizona. “I read recently that you can still book a wigwam – $79 per night for a queen and $89 per night for a double.”
“Not bad,” David remarked with his eyes fixed on the road ahead. |
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In Holbrook, we merged onto I-40 and followed this interstate through the northeast corner of Arizona, across New Mexico, and into the Texas Panhandle to Amarillo. David drove the distance, about eight hours of drive time, while I relaxed and enjoyed the beautiful scenery along the way.
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I wasn’t ready to let go of my storytelling about that long-ago trip to northern Arizona, so I maintained a running commentary as we drove east from Holbrook.
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“Mom and I had a wonderful time on that trip,” I said as I scanned the handful of photos I kept on my phone. “One day, we rode the Grand Canyon Railway from Williams to the South Rim. This was our second trip to the Grand Canyon, and our first time by rail. As mom and I walked along the rim near the Visitor Center, I asked a stranger to take a picture of us.” As I showed this photo to David, I remarked, “The views were stunning!”
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For a moment, my mind wandered back to that day, as I remembered what it felt like to gaze out across the canyon. I haven't been back since, but I could still see it in my mind's eye.
“On another day,” I began as I picked up the threads from that trip, “we explored the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert. We were amazed by the rainbow colors of the crystalized trees and the colorful layers of the rocky badlands.”
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“I’ve been to the Grand Canyon,” David chimed in, “but not to the Petrified Forest or Painted Desert.”
I nodded as we neared the exit for both parks. "We don’t have time to stop,” I said, “but I can take you on a virtual tour, if you’d like.”
David smiled that smile of his that said ‘sure, dad’, and with that I regaled him with tales of the awesome sights and sites that Debra and I saw as we wandered through the parks, including a few petroglyphs and the ruins of prehistoric homes.
I nodded as we neared the exit for both parks. "We don’t have time to stop,” I said, “but I can take you on a virtual tour, if you’d like.”
David smiled that smile of his that said ‘sure, dad’, and with that I regaled him with tales of the awesome sights and sites that Debra and I saw as we wandered through the parks, including a few petroglyphs and the ruins of prehistoric homes.
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I was about to launch into another anecdote when David pointed and asked, “What is that?” In front of us, near the town of Lupton, Arizona, was this beautiful rock formation.
Hmmm, I thought, and then, thank you, Verizon, as I found I had a strong signal in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere.
Through Google Search, I learned that this landform was Painted Cliffs, a classic sight that was featured in two movies, The Grapes of Wrath and Cars. The Navajos called this 500-foot-tall, red sandstone formation Tsedijooli, or “Round Rock.” It was an apt name, don’t you think?!
Around 9, as the miles continued to roll by, we crossed the state line into New Mexico. Soon, we spied a sign that marked the “Continental Divide.” Big C, Big D…but not THE continental divide, as there are three divides in the United States. Rather, this was the Western Divide, a fairly continuous ridge of north-south mountain summits that separate the country’s water drainage east towards the Mississippi River and west towards the Pacific Ocean. At this point, we were 7,228 feet above sea level, the peak elevation on our route to North Carolina.
We passed Gallup an hour later. East of the city, I spotted a train with a line of boxcars that “floated” on a bridge above the highway, each car with tag graffiti – a person’s name on some, symbols on others.
Through Google Search, I learned that this landform was Painted Cliffs, a classic sight that was featured in two movies, The Grapes of Wrath and Cars. The Navajos called this 500-foot-tall, red sandstone formation Tsedijooli, or “Round Rock.” It was an apt name, don’t you think?!
Around 9, as the miles continued to roll by, we crossed the state line into New Mexico. Soon, we spied a sign that marked the “Continental Divide.” Big C, Big D…but not THE continental divide, as there are three divides in the United States. Rather, this was the Western Divide, a fairly continuous ridge of north-south mountain summits that separate the country’s water drainage east towards the Mississippi River and west towards the Pacific Ocean. At this point, we were 7,228 feet above sea level, the peak elevation on our route to North Carolina.
We passed Gallup an hour later. East of the city, I spotted a train with a line of boxcars that “floated” on a bridge above the highway, each car with tag graffiti – a person’s name on some, symbols on others.
“Look at that red rock dome!” David cried out.
“Huh?” I answered, as David’s voice broke my reverie.
“Look at the picture you just took,” he replied as we sped past the train, which was heading west as we drove east.
Sure enough, there WAS a red rock dome. This dome, I read, was part of Red Rock Park, home to Ancestral Puebloans from A.D. 300 to 1200.
David and I were loving the spectacular landscape, and thankful for a strong mobile phone signal!
We reached the outskirts of Albuquerque, the largest city in New Mexico, around noon. (We “lost” an hour when we crossed into New Mexico.)
“Look,” I said, “there’s Sandia Mountains.” At more than 10,000 feet tall, it was hard to miss!
Back in 2012, David and I spent 24 hours in Albuquerque, the last stop on our road trip west from Atlanta to Tucson. Then as now, David was a huge auto racing fan, so we visited the Unser Racing Museum, which “celebrates the accomplishments of New Mexico’s native racing family” through a series of storyboards and interactive kiosks. There were also several race cars and a racing simulator. It was great fun, to be sure.
“Huh?” I answered, as David’s voice broke my reverie.
“Look at the picture you just took,” he replied as we sped past the train, which was heading west as we drove east.
Sure enough, there WAS a red rock dome. This dome, I read, was part of Red Rock Park, home to Ancestral Puebloans from A.D. 300 to 1200.
David and I were loving the spectacular landscape, and thankful for a strong mobile phone signal!
We reached the outskirts of Albuquerque, the largest city in New Mexico, around noon. (We “lost” an hour when we crossed into New Mexico.)
“Look,” I said, “there’s Sandia Mountains.” At more than 10,000 feet tall, it was hard to miss!
Back in 2012, David and I spent 24 hours in Albuquerque, the last stop on our road trip west from Atlanta to Tucson. Then as now, David was a huge auto racing fan, so we visited the Unser Racing Museum, which “celebrates the accomplishments of New Mexico’s native racing family” through a series of storyboards and interactive kiosks. There were also several race cars and a racing simulator. It was great fun, to be sure.
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But IMHO, Sandia Mountains was THE highlight of our 24-hour stay in Albuquerque. David and I rode the Sandia Peak Tramway up and over rugged and rocky terrain to the crest. There, we enjoyed fresh mountain air – it was early February, there was snow on the ground, and it was cold! – and commanding views of the valley below.
I scrolled through photos as we skirted the southern end of the Sandias and showed the one below to David. “Do you remember when I sent this pic to mom?” I asked with a twinkle in my eye. David, as you can see, laid prone atop a rock as he hung his shoulders and head over a sheer drop, with a big smile on his face.
I scrolled through photos as we skirted the southern end of the Sandias and showed the one below to David. “Do you remember when I sent this pic to mom?” I asked with a twinkle in my eye. David, as you can see, laid prone atop a rock as he hung his shoulders and head over a sheer drop, with a big smile on his face.
“I sure do,” he replied with a laugh. “She was pissed at you.”
“How could you let him do this?!” Debra demanded when we talked that evening.
“Uhhh…" I began sheepishly. “It seemed like a great idea at the time.”
“And that’s the difference between a mother and a father,” Debra stated without equivocation as she ended this ‘discussion’.
Well, dang - live and learn!
Half asking, half stating, David said, “Are you hungry?”
“Yep,” I replied. “Let’s see what options we have up the road.”
I Googled roadside restaurants near me and scanned the short list. Not much to choose from, but the top choice was Chili Hills, located 30 minutes away in the town of Moriarty. Chili Hills offered a wide selection of entrees and was rated 4.5 stars on TripAdvisor. David gave a shake of his head to say ‘ok’.
As we drove (well, technically, as David drove!), I read that Moriarty was named for the first family to permanently settle in this area – Michael, his wife, and their three children, who homesteaded their land in 1887.
I also learned this piece of trivia: Route 66 was re-routed through Moriarty in 1937.
Many of the 400,000 migrants who escaped the Dust Bowl on the American prairies in the 1930s passed through Moriarty on their way west to a “better life” in California. As a result, this town became known as the “Crossroads of Opportunity.”
“How could you let him do this?!” Debra demanded when we talked that evening.
“Uhhh…" I began sheepishly. “It seemed like a great idea at the time.”
“And that’s the difference between a mother and a father,” Debra stated without equivocation as she ended this ‘discussion’.
Well, dang - live and learn!
Half asking, half stating, David said, “Are you hungry?”
“Yep,” I replied. “Let’s see what options we have up the road.”
I Googled roadside restaurants near me and scanned the short list. Not much to choose from, but the top choice was Chili Hills, located 30 minutes away in the town of Moriarty. Chili Hills offered a wide selection of entrees and was rated 4.5 stars on TripAdvisor. David gave a shake of his head to say ‘ok’.
As we drove (well, technically, as David drove!), I read that Moriarty was named for the first family to permanently settle in this area – Michael, his wife, and their three children, who homesteaded their land in 1887.
I also learned this piece of trivia: Route 66 was re-routed through Moriarty in 1937.
Many of the 400,000 migrants who escaped the Dust Bowl on the American prairies in the 1930s passed through Moriarty on their way west to a “better life” in California. As a result, this town became known as the “Crossroads of Opportunity.”
I took this photo of a still-used segment of Route 66 as I looked east from Chili Hills’ parking lot. Not much to see, I know, but it was a part of this still-iconic roadway!
Head for the “HILLS”
where the Chili is HOT and
the People are COOL!
where the Chili is HOT and
the People are COOL!
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So said the menu, which included all-day breakfast, a selection of Mexican dishes, burgers and sandwiches, and salads and soups. David ordered the BLT. Me? I opted for the Enchilada Breakfast – two eggs sunny-side-up, two enchiladas with shredded beef, and a side of hash browns.
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Chili Hills did not offer much in the way of ambience, but the service was great, the portions were huge (as the saying goes, I ate the whole enchilada…and everything else on my plate, too!), and the food was tasty. “Great choice, dad,” David remarked as we left Chili Hills.
“Good news, David,” I said as we drove from Moriarty. “We’ve put 360 miles behind us and have only 210 miles to go.” He nodded his reply, a wry smile on his face.
I glanced at the control panel on the dash and mentioned that the needle was near empty.
“No problem,” David replied. “I checked my Love’s app at the restaurant. There’s one just ahead in Santa Rosa.”
If you aren’t familiar with Love’s, let me just say that they have it all: gas, of course, but also food, snacks, and beverages, electronics and apparel, toys and collectibles, and a whole lot more. It was gas only on this stop. $2.86 a gallon for unleaded, about 20 cents less than we paid in Show Low this morning. Cha-ching!
“Good news, David,” I said as we drove from Moriarty. “We’ve put 360 miles behind us and have only 210 miles to go.” He nodded his reply, a wry smile on his face.
I glanced at the control panel on the dash and mentioned that the needle was near empty.
“No problem,” David replied. “I checked my Love’s app at the restaurant. There’s one just ahead in Santa Rosa.”
If you aren’t familiar with Love’s, let me just say that they have it all: gas, of course, but also food, snacks, and beverages, electronics and apparel, toys and collectibles, and a whole lot more. It was gas only on this stop. $2.86 a gallon for unleaded, about 20 cents less than we paid in Show Low this morning. Cha-ching!
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As we drove east from Santa Rosa, we passed Cuervo (Spanish for “crow”), Newkirk (with only a handful of residents), and Tucumcari (a near-metropolis with almost 5,000 residents!) before we reached Glenrio, a ghost town that straddled the New Mexico-Texas state line. On a whim, I Googled Places to Stay in Glenrio. David and I had a good laugh when I read the answer: In Vega...a town located 36 miles to the east in Texas!
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We were now in the Texas Panhandle, and in the home stretch of our day-long drive – just 75 miles to Amarillo.
Those lovely land formations we saw as we drove through Arizona and New Mexico were replaced by miles and miles of very tall wind turbines – the tip of the blade stood more than 600 feet above the ground. We soon learned why: Texas was “situated in a natural wind belt that generated a high volume of wind.”
“It’s no wonder then,” David remarked, “that we’re seeing all these turbines.”
In fact, what we saw – easily hundreds of turbines – were just a handful of the more than 15,000 turbines in Texas.
Those lovely land formations we saw as we drove through Arizona and New Mexico were replaced by miles and miles of very tall wind turbines – the tip of the blade stood more than 600 feet above the ground. We soon learned why: Texas was “situated in a natural wind belt that generated a high volume of wind.”
“It’s no wonder then,” David remarked, “that we’re seeing all these turbines.”
In fact, what we saw – easily hundreds of turbines – were just a handful of the more than 15,000 turbines in Texas.
The turbines in the photo above, which I snapped near Vega, belonged to Wildorado Wind Ranch. With 70 turbines, Wildorado generated enough power for more than 50,000 homes!
Soon we passed a sign that announced Cadillac Ranch – 20 Miles.
“David, do you remember Cadillac Ranch from our road trip in 2012?” I asked. “We didn’t stop to see it then, but we have time to do so now.”
“I remember,” he replied. “We were past it before we knew it and didn’t turn back. Let’s go.” That’s my boy, I thought!
Soon we passed a sign that announced Cadillac Ranch – 20 Miles.
“David, do you remember Cadillac Ranch from our road trip in 2012?” I asked. “We didn’t stop to see it then, but we have time to do so now.”
“I remember,” he replied. “We were past it before we knew it and didn’t turn back. Let’s go.” That’s my boy, I thought!
Cadillac Ranch was a public art installation – the brainchild of Stanley Marsh, an eccentric Texas millionaire. In 1973, he invited three artists from a collective in San Francisco to create a unique work of art – “a monument to the Golden Age of the American automobile” – on his ranch just west of Amarillo. There were ten Cadillacs, ranging in model years from 1948 to 1963, half-buried nose-first in the ground.
Over the years, the caddies were painted a variety of colors. Then, in the mid-90s, graffiti artists started to tag the cars. Eventually, this gave way to an onsite vendor who sold cans of spray paint so that visitors could add their artistic mark on these once-luxury automobiles.
Over the years, the caddies were painted a variety of colors. Then, in the mid-90s, graffiti artists started to tag the cars. Eventually, this gave way to an onsite vendor who sold cans of spray paint so that visitors could add their artistic mark on these once-luxury automobiles.
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Neither David or I were feeling our inner artist this day, so we passed on the opportunity to buy and spray…but we did admire the creative talent of others!
Ten miles further on, we reached La Quinta Inn & Suites on the I-40 Access Road near exit 76. It was a nice hotel – perhaps the nicest we stayed at on our trip. The common areas were well-maintained, our room was clean and comfortable, and front desk service was great. David and I gave this hotel two-thumbs up!
It was early evening. Time for dinner.
“We could have steak,” I suggested to David. “There’s a place nearby – The Big Texan Steak Ranch & Brewery – ranked #37 on TripAdvisor. They have hand-crafted beers, and you know that I love to try local beer.”
“Well, I doubt I’ll have a beer,” he replied, “but I won’t say ‘no’ to steak. Let’s go.” So off we went.
Ten miles further on, we reached La Quinta Inn & Suites on the I-40 Access Road near exit 76. It was a nice hotel – perhaps the nicest we stayed at on our trip. The common areas were well-maintained, our room was clean and comfortable, and front desk service was great. David and I gave this hotel two-thumbs up!
It was early evening. Time for dinner.
“We could have steak,” I suggested to David. “There’s a place nearby – The Big Texan Steak Ranch & Brewery – ranked #37 on TripAdvisor. They have hand-crafted beers, and you know that I love to try local beer.”
“Well, I doubt I’ll have a beer,” he replied, “but I won’t say ‘no’ to steak. Let’s go.” So off we went.
As with many things in Texas, this restaurant was BIG – a huge hall with family-style dining in the center, booths along the sides, and a second-floor balcony. It was also a bit over the top, with vinyl “cowhide” tablecloths, mounted animal heads, and wagon wheel chandeliers and period-style lamps. All in good fun, and all a part of the Old West ambience.
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We had a 30-minute wait, which we used to explore the large gift shop. Lots of merchandise for sale – most of it kitschy, like this hat I tried on, but nothing that screamed ‘buy me’.
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The hostess seated David and me at a booth, which felt like private dining as we gazed at those long family-style dining tables.
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The Big Texan had an extensive menu. Appetizers, salads, steaks and prime rib, seafood, sides, desserts, and more. But first things first – BEER!
So many choices (and all brewed in-house), including Whoop Your Donkey (a double IPA), Tres Hombres (a Mexican-style lager), and Palo Duro (a pale ale). Decisions, decisions. It was definitely time to use a 'lifeline', so I asked our server for help. In turn, she asked a few questions about the beers I liked, and with that, she recommended a flight of four four-ounce beers: Rattlesnake IPA, Whiskey Barrel Stout, Pecan Porter, and Texas Red Amber Ale.
So many choices (and all brewed in-house), including Whoop Your Donkey (a double IPA), Tres Hombres (a Mexican-style lager), and Palo Duro (a pale ale). Decisions, decisions. It was definitely time to use a 'lifeline', so I asked our server for help. In turn, she asked a few questions about the beers I liked, and with that, she recommended a flight of four four-ounce beers: Rattlesnake IPA, Whiskey Barrel Stout, Pecan Porter, and Texas Red Amber Ale.
True to his word, David declined an alcoholic drink...but this didn’t stop him from sipping mine!
Neither of us cared for Texas Red Amber Ale, a light beer with little taste. Both of us, though, enjoyed Rattlesnake IPA, which was robust and full-bodied. Pecan Porter was sweet, so I sipped it after dinner in lieu of dessert.
We ordered ribeye steaks – 12 ounces for me, 16 ounces for David – with sides salads and sweet potatoes. There was plenty of food, and we readily chowed down when it arrived.
Neither of us cared for Texas Red Amber Ale, a light beer with little taste. Both of us, though, enjoyed Rattlesnake IPA, which was robust and full-bodied. Pecan Porter was sweet, so I sipped it after dinner in lieu of dessert.
We ordered ribeye steaks – 12 ounces for me, 16 ounces for David – with sides salads and sweet potatoes. There was plenty of food, and we readily chowed down when it arrived.
Here was something else that David and I agreed on: The steaks were good but not great.
David said it best when he critiqued his meal: “The Big Texan is a classic steakhouse, but my steak was average. This is a tourist attraction, so I think eating here may be more about the experience than the food.”
David said it best when he critiqued his meal: “The Big Texan is a classic steakhouse, but my steak was average. This is a tourist attraction, so I think eating here may be more about the experience than the food.”
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There was a bit of a commotion – clapping and cheering – as we finished dinner. When I looked up, I saw a guy seated at a table on a raised platform near the open kitchen. “What’s going on?" I asked our waitress.
“Oh,” she replied, “he is getting ready to start the 72-ounce Steak Challenge. He has one hour to eat a salad, baked potato, shrimp cocktail, roll, and 4 ½ pounds of steak. If he finishes everything within an hour, the meal is free.” “And if he doesn’t?” I inquired. “It will set him back $72,” she answered with a grin. |
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It was Man vs. Steak, but David and I didn't stay for the “show.” I did stop at this table, though, on our way out to get a good look at 72 ounces of steak. It was an obscene amount of meat, and not terribly appetizing! I wished the gent ‘good luck’ and asked if I could take a picture. He consented and I snapped. David and I would never know the outcome, but win or lose, I saw Alka-Seltzer in this guy’s future!
As we settled in for the night – we were in bed by 10 and asleep within 15 minutes – David said, “Dad, this was a great start to our trip. I loved the sights we saw along the way – natural and man-made and the stories you shared.”
“And we had our share of laughs too,” I added, “as we reminisced about the trips we’ve taken. Yep – it WAS a wonderful day!”
Tomorrow we will drive to Conway, Arkansas. I look forward to sharing our day with you.
As we settled in for the night – we were in bed by 10 and asleep within 15 minutes – David said, “Dad, this was a great start to our trip. I loved the sights we saw along the way – natural and man-made and the stories you shared.”
“And we had our share of laughs too,” I added, “as we reminisced about the trips we’ve taken. Yep – it WAS a wonderful day!”
Tomorrow we will drive to Conway, Arkansas. I look forward to sharing our day with you.