FORGOTTEN AMERICA: ROUTE 66 FROM THE QUIET TOWNS OF THE TEXAS PANHANDLE TO TUCUMCARI
Environment
often dictates behavior and for that reason, most anywhere else I would have
passed by a Buc-ee’s with little more consideration than I would have passed by
any random rest area. But since its opening in Clute in 1982 and its expansion throughout
and outside of Texas, Buc-ee’s has brewed such local fervor that I had to stop
at its Amarillo location before departing the city.
It is,
to be sure, unlike any rest stop I’ve seen before. Tacky, perhaps, but not
without value. Roughly the size of a smaller K-Mart, Buc-ee’s offers its own
merch (hats, shirts, plush toys of its mascot, the titular beaver etc.) as well
as a wide array of snacks, baked goods and take-out options. I stocked up for
the road, mostly with bottled drinks and cleaning supplies, and can win the
approval of any Texan I tell I’ve been to a Buc-ee’s.
My
final stop in Amarillo, if anything, cemented my experience as deeply Texan
even further. I found my way to the Big Texan Steak Ranch, home of the
(in)famous eating challenge: a 72oz steak dinner accompanied with a salad
plate, dinner rolls and fried shrimp consumed in whole results in a free meal. Eating
challenges aren’t my thing anywhere and I definitely wasn’t going to risk
making myself sick on the road. Besides, I had something more aligned with the
purpose of this journey planned for later on that day. So, rather than make
myself a spectacle for rallying diners as I’ve seen a number of influencers do
on YouTube, I limited my visit to the steakhouse noting that comparison of its
neon cowboy to the 2nd Amendment Cowboy statue further up Amarillo
and learning the history of Big Tex-Rex, the playful dinosaur depicted in a
colorful structure near the parking area.
Vega is
a charming little city. On a Saturday morning, with most of its businesses and
offices closed, it looked rather like a movie set depicting an archetypical
Texan small town. Sadly, this meant that Mama Jo’s Pies and Sweets, which was
supposed to be the highlight of my visit, would also be closed and its
acclaimed bakery not to be discovered by me. Nonetheless, I’m glad I made the
stop at Vega. A serene air runs through this sleepy little town, sweeping away
the toils and weariness of the road. A lovely little plaza in the center
provides shade as well as placards telling the history of the town.
Adrian,
Texas would be where I would sit to dine. Here is the midpoint of Route 66,
with its starting point in Chicago and its end in Los Angeles both 1,139 miles
away and here is also the aptly named Midpoint Café. Opened in 1928 when the
Mother Road was still in its youth, the Café continues to capture the spirit of
America’s highway. Americana lines the walls and tables and the waitresses love
to chat it up with you. As the midpoint of the road that meant so much to a
nation’s movement and continues to live on in the collective national psyche,
the Midpoint Café encapsulates the essence of everything we, as a people, love
about Route 66, real or imagined, whether we lived through it or not. If I were
to sum up the feel, taste, sights and even the warmth of Route 66, I would
nominate the Midpoint Café as its heart.
Neighboring
the Midpoint Café is another Route 66 landmark, the long-closed Bent Door Café.
Although its been closed since the early 1970s, an eccentric architectural
decision by Bob Harris when it was built in 1947 ensured the Bent Door Café
(originally called Tommy’s Café), would not be erased from memory.
Incorporating features of the air traffic control tower that once stood in its
footprint but decommissioned after the war, the door of the café was built with
a slant across bend across its middle to match the tower’s slanted windows.
Of
course, the midpoint is marked on the route, encouraging photos and this was my
last act before leaving Texas (sort of, as I’ll explain) making my way into New
Mexico.
Once I
arrived in New Mexico my first stop was a visitor center and then, in a sense,
I returned to Texas. For the little ghost town of Glenrio lies across the
border of both states and legal battles have been fought since its founding in
1903 as to which state it truly belongs. Now, with a population of zero and
only decaying structures and a few rusted vehicles, Glenrion belongs both to no one and everybody at the same
time.
Built
as a railroad siding for the Rock Island Railroad, Glenrio built up throughout
the mid-century, adding a Texaco gas station, a motel, post office, the Brownlee
Diner/Little Juarez Café as well as an iconic sign marking either “First Motel
in Texas” or “Last Motel in Texas” depending on the direction of the driver.
Always a small unincorporated town, however, Glenrio was hit especially hard by
the bypassing of the town and after the State Line Café and Gas Station and the
Texas Longhorn Motel both closed in 1976 the town practically disappeared, its
ruins the only remnant of its existence.
The
road from Glenrio to San Jon, New Mexico is a long stretch of desert, taking
you over a number of rickety bridges over dried up brooks. By any stretch, San
Jon is a very small town but, after emerging from the abandoned town of
Glenrio, San Jon, with a population nearing 200, felt like a return to
civilization. To me, the biggest relief was arriving at a Valero gas station.
The gas meter on the Jeep was running at just beneath half-full as I was
driving the desolate roads out of Glenrio and, I must confess, my paranoia was
getting to me only because I did not know how long the road went for. I was
never happier to see gas pumps.
And so,
as twilight fell on the trails, I made my way to Tucumcari, my first stop in
New Mexico. And that is a story for next time.
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