The preceding scene is somewhere in Texas. The following is the approach northward from the Interstate toward Santa Fe. Note the mashed bugs on the windshield.
Much of the day today was spent driving into 50 mph headwinds within yards of the original Route 66, marveling at the steady transformation of the Plains from the comprehensible landscapes of the Mississippi to the tumbling tumbleweeds and roadside carnival attractions in the middle of unoccupied New Mexico.
Well, the Land of Enchantment is almost blue, especially in the crowded Second Street brewpub in Santa Fe. Great Imperial Stout.
Here are a few topical entries made over at my PC blog:
Santa Fe, sans Atcheson & Topeka.
Greetings from Oklahoma City.
Luggage? We don't need no stinking luggage.
Tomorrow's Albuquerque, and after that we pick up the trail toward California. This is a strange trip for one accustomed to the Old World attractions of Europe. I suppose it will help me to get back in touch with my inner American ... although I'm not at all sure why that's desirable.
Has Rumsfeld been fired yet?
If you're not already, you should take the Turquoise Trail between Santa Fe and Alb. It's the old road. If it's the same as it used to be circa '93, there're are two towns along the way. I can't remember the name of the first one but there's a "feed store" there run by a lesbian couple with a tremendous breakfast. The other town is Madrid, pronounced MAD-rid, as in the magazine. It's got a neat old saloon attached to an abandoned mine. The last time I was there, quite few free spirits had claimed squatters' rights in the old shacks the workers left behind when the mine failed.
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