Greetings!
The Day 3 edition of the Hector chronicles is written a little late as we did not stay in a campground last night, and I could not find an internet connection. The reason for this is that we drove all night in a desperate attempt to escape the desert of Arizona and New Mexico.
At this moment we are sitting outside a donut shop, we are becoming quite the connoisseurs, in an attempt to get breakfast and directions to the city park of Big Spring, TX. As we wait for Mom and Nick I will relate the events of the past twenty-four hours.
Leaving Kingman was a quick process, and we were on the road before nine. Not much of interest happened during the morning driving, besides our looking for the elk that were touted by the signs to be present. The elk were absent, and pine trees were the only wildlife present. (If you can call that wildlife.)
Some ways past Flagstaff, on Hwy 40, we decided it was time to think about getting something to eat. Due to the fact that most of our meals had been eaten in the RV, we decided to indulge in a restaurant. The general consensus was that hamburgers, fries, and milkshakes would be an ideal meal for our parallel Route 66 traveling. We drove through the miniscule town of Moqui, and found no restaurant. This did not concern us as there were several larger towns further down the road, next stop was Winslow. In Winslow we found several Mexican restaurants, two Chinese restaurants, and a rather fancy Italian place. There was one family style restaurant, but the several county sheriffs cars sitting outside with their light bars on was enough to discourage even our adventurous family. We decided to tighten our belts and head for Holbrook, a mere 40 miles down the road.
By the time we hit Holbrook, some members of the party were drifting in and out of consciousness from lack of food, and the rest of us were getting desperate. All eyes scanned each restaurant we passed in the hopes that our desires would be fulfilled. Cries of, “There’s one!” would go up, only to be disappointed by the fact that it was a Mexican restaurant, or that the economics of the area had been unkind, and it stood as a deserted memorial; the signs taunting us with promises of shakes and burgers that it could never deliver. As we were approaching the edge of town fear and desperation set in, the next town was fifty miles away, and it was even smaller then Holbrook, and the only town of consequence was Gallup, a mere 110 miles from our present position. No one was willing to go that far for lunch, and gazing into the crazed eyes of the food deprived children showed that waiting was not an option; we had to find food, fast! Finally a restaurant appeared on the horizon, it said “Mexican-American Food”. While we were skeptical, an advance party was sent in. After asking a waitress whether they had milkshakes, and receiving an answer to the affirmative, we all piled into the restaurant. Upon our seating we got water and menus. With the children munching happily on the chips that are characteristic of all Mexican restaurants we looked over the menu for the milkshakes. Alas, we looked in vain, there were no milkshakes on the menu, and upon questioning our waitress, who was different from the one asked upon our arrival, we were told that they do not have milkshakes, have never had milkshakes, and do not intend to have milkshakes, ever.
It was quite a let down. To have our desires raised high, our expectations higher, and our hopes raised to the highest, only to have them dashed to pieces, like the crumbs at the bottom of the chip basket, upon the harsh rocks of reality. Resigned to our fate, and horribly hungry, we decided to simply eat Mexican food, and write it off as a loss. This we did, and hit the road yet again.
The VERY next town had a gigantic billboard advertising a restaurant that featured burgers, fries, and shakes. The collective groan that emanated from the occupants of the vehicle was truly heart wrenching. This however was not the end; we had to put up with the next FOUR towns having the same type of restaurant, and several large billboards advertising the fact, eight to be exact.
At dinner time we did have our justice; for dinner we found a diner in Albuquerque called “Route 66” and split burgers, fries and shakes among the lot of us. The long wait was worth it.
It was then decided that we were extremely tired of the desert. In fact, we were so tired of it that we decided to skip Carlsbad Caverns and head straight for the lush fields of Texas. It was then 9:30 pm. The executive decision was made to make tracks for our sister church in Katy, TX just outside of Houston. This would require all night driving, an idea which we drivers steeled ourselves towards. Thomas took the first shift, from 9:30 until midnight, Dad, who had been driving the latter half of that day, was allowed to get off with only a two hour stint, and I took the 2 am until 7am portion. Though, one of those hours was a time change. I still got to see an amazing Texas sunrise. The saying that “Everything’s big in Texas” applies to their sunrises as well.
That catches us up to now, and my food is coming. Got to run.
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