A Day In NM (Sunday July 23)

Upon waking in a campground in Santa Rosa, NM, I decided to try and figure something out. So, I put on some dirty clothes, climbed out of my truck, climbed under my truck, and proceeded to grasp and jiggle various under parts of my truck. For a while now, I’ve been hearing a weird rattling noise whenever I go over the slightest of bumps. I was sincerely hoping that the rattle could be attributed to something as slight as, say, the spare tire mounting bracket being a little loose. Well, as I said, I climbed under and started diagnosing. My assessment, and I hope this is right, is that the exhaust system is securely held up, but has some wiggle room. While I couldn’t replicate the exact sounds that I hear while driving by simply kicking the muffler, I did hear various approximations to the sound. In any event, I kicked and tried my hand at just about every other part under the truck that could possibly move, and that was the only one that seemed significant enough to make a noise. After I took a shower and got dressed, I left the campground in search of an automobile museum. I found it. It was the building with the flying car out front. I went in, paid the man, and saw some sights. Their prized piece was clearly a ’57 Chevy two-door convertible with the continental kit, I could tell by the raised ring they had on the floor to keep people away from it. It was really shiny. They had plenty of interesting things in there, some of which I thought the degree to which it belonged in an auto museum was questionable, at best. There was an ’86 Nissan in there, for example. Most of it was great, they had five Mustangs, I believe, two late ‘50s Impalas, only one Chevelle (SS396), and surprisingly zero Camaros. I still enjoyed it though. When I exited, I decided to take a picture of said flying car: After I left the museum for good, I headed west, got gas and ice, and found the road. It wasn’t too difficult. Then I took the older alignment north, through Santa Fe and then back south through Albuquerque. Before I ever got to Albuquerque, however, I saw the rain, and the lightning, and, well, the rain. The rain came and got me, and it was unlike any rain I’ve really experienced before. The cloud was a long way off, and I was driving merrily along, when a rain drop slightly smaller than a super-ball hit my windshield. It must have left a splatter about three inches in diameter. Has anyone out there seen the movie Magnolia? Well, that movie has a rain storm, of sorts, and the rain I was in was very akin to the progression of that one. A drop here, two drops there a minute later, and then POW! The sky opens up and a torrent falls out. I continued on through Santa Fe, the (self-proclaimed... I saw a billboard) City of Holy Faith. It was a neat town, but the streets were kind of narrow. The streets of Route 66 were easy enough to find and follow through Santa Fe, it should be noted. Then I was on my way back south. Along the way I saw another sign, which proclaimed the closedness of a stretch of the Old Road, and just as I said it makes me a little sad to be forced back on the interstate system, it makes me a little sad to see those signs as well. Upon my brother-in-law’s recommendation, I was headed into the heart of Albuquerque to sample some fine cuisine. He had told me that the restaurant I was to go to was on Albuquerque’s stretch of Old Route 66, so I thought it would be easy enough to find. I rolled into town attempting to follow the directions of my guide book. I knew I was on the correct road, and was diligently searching for the correct road to turn on, but found the road I was on ‘T’ before I ever found the turn off. I drove up and down that road again, just to be sure. Then I just headed into Albuquerque’s downtown in search of the restaurant. I still didn’t find it. Then I called my brother-in-law, and asked if he could offer up any further advice, which he did, and I finally found it. The thing that doesn’t make sense to me, is that the Frontier Restaurant is on a prominent stretch of Old Route 66 called, ‘Central,’ through town. It was marked on my U.S. atlas as ‘Historic Route 66,’ yet neither my book, nor my actual Route 66 map series made mention of this ‘Central.’ There were even historic signs along the road. Part of my initial problem was that I had come down from the older, northern alignment, but this was along a newer, straighter, east-west alignment. But still, a guidebook for Route 66 should have mentioned the road that goes through a city as large as Albuquerque. The meal I was instructed to order was ‘Huevos Rancheros, Eggs over Medium, with Green Chili Stew.’ I did exactly that, and it was quite tasty. Also, when I got into the restaurant, I was third in line, but by the time I sat down with my food, I’d say the line was about 50 people long. Talk about beating the rush... Oh, here’s what the food looked like: Then it was all about trying to find out what happened to the road, and why my guide book didn’t say anything about it here. I drove around, searching futilely for the turn off road once again, but came up exceptionally empty-handed. I did come across this gem of a pair of road signs, however. Not only is the stop sign clearly visible by the time you see the ‘stop ahead’ sign, you can clearly see that the road comes to a ‘T.’ Oh well. I decided to follow Central out of town. I did, and I came to something I thought the book mentioned, a hill called ‘9 mile hill.’ So named because the crest of it is 9 miles from the center of the city. Well, I was headed toward a large hill, and was about 9 miles from the center of the city, and I thought that the odds had to be pretty good that I was on the right road. Somehow, I think that I was wrong. Once I got to the top of the not-9-mile-hill, I was forced onto the freeway because the road didn’t allow me to go anywhere else, and by the time I realized what was happening, the road had divided and was one way. There was no turning back. And the book hadn’t mentioned anything about this. Grrr... Further down the interstate, I saw a sign advertising the Historic Route 66, so I exited appropriately, and made my way to investigate. I found it, and I found an Historic Landmark in the Rio Puerco (I believe) bridge, which neither of my literatures mentioned at all. It was a neat old bridge, which has unfortunately been retired. After that event, I got back on the freeway until the book told me to get off of it, and then I did. At this point, I’d resolved that I’d not done enough night driving, and wanted to see some of the landscape at night. So I drove through a really neat rocky area, where I saw this hill/cliffside: And then ended up in a place called Laguna, where I got gas. I headed back to the freeway, because I thought that was where I needed to be, but again, when the road divided, I realized I needed to be headed the other way down that very road. It was too late, I had to drive about seven miles down the freeway before I could turn around—which I did. I went back, and drove that section of old Route 66, and it was good. Then I saw a neat sunset, then it got dark. Here’s what it looked like before it got dark: After it was dark, I tried, I really tried to follow the directions and get where I needed to go and see some sights in the dark. I saw the sign for the highway I needed to take off the freeway for Grants, and when I took the off ramp, there was no sign telling me which way to go in order to get to that highway. It was so frustrating that I gave up. I got a motel room, hauled my stuff upstairs into my smoking-is-the-only-thing-available room, and went to sleep. It was a day of ups and downs, but it was a good day.