Tuesday, Oct. 5, Winslow, Ariz. --
Catching the news this a.m., we learned that much of Arizona would experience thunderstorms throughout the day, but the weather map showed that Route 66 would take us north of most of the expected rain. That was a good thing for us, and we were thankful our cars hadn't been hammered by large hail that fell farther south last night.
Before we left Winslow we drove a few blocks to see the "Standing on the Corner" statue that pays tribute to the Eagles' song, "Take it Easy." There’s some confusion about this because a lot of people, including Gordon, thought it was a tribute to the “Standing on the Corner” song from long ago by the Four Lads – “Standing on the corner, watching all the girls go by” etc. But no, this is Eagles’ corner. We also heard the Eagles song wafting from the Roadworks gift shop across the street! Not a coincidence, according to our guidebook.
"Well, I'm a standing on a corner
in Winslow, Arizona
and such a fine sight to see
It's a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed
Ford
slowin' down to take a look at me."
-- The Eagles
In the song "Route 66," one of the stanzas reads ". . . Flagstaff, Arizona,
Don't forget Winona, Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino. . . ." Well, we weren't about to forget Winona. No siree! But it would be fairly easy to do.
What we found in Winona were several homes, some junk cars, and a wonderful old iron bridge that is on the National Register of Historic Places. A section of old Route 66 approaches the bridge, which is closed to traffic. And that’s about it for Winona.
As we approach Flagstaff, elevation 6,930 feet, we are racing toward ever-darkening skies. Just outside this town nestled at the foot of a mountain, we seem to leave the desert behind and instead drive through a pine forest with huge trees that we didn't expect at all. Further along toward Williams, we're in rolling hills with brown grass and green trees, reminding us of Montana.
Twisters '50s Soda Fountain and Route 66 Cafe, a 40-plus-year-old combination soda fountain-diner-gift shop-bar, all housed in a 1926 Texaco gas station, was our choice for lunch. But while we dined, the weather began to act up outside. By the time we left, it was pouring. Driving was slow but steady, and there didn't seem to be any lightning or thunder. Westward we went, into the darkening clouds and steadily heavier rain.
And then the Burma-Shave signs began:
It would be more fun
To go by air
If we could put
These signs up there.
He tried to cross
As fast train neared
Death didn't draft him
He volunteered.
The one who drives when
He's been drinking
Depends on you
To do his thinking.
But wait -- the weather was getting worse. Bolt lightning shot through the clouds ahead, the rain was more intense, and at 2:45 in the afternoon, it looked like twilight. Sheets of rain obscured our visibility as wind buffeted the car, and we had to slow down. Inside we were catching drips in several places. (Has there ever been a convertible top that didn't leak?)
In Seligman, it was time for a milk shake break, so we stopped at the venerable Snow Cap Drive-in, built in 1953 of scrap lumber by entrepreneur Angel Delgadillo. This tiny hole-in-the-wall has a small indoor ordering area that possibly could accommodate 15 people at best. But because of the rain, we were cheek-by-jowl with at least that many others who had remained in the tiny space to keep dry.
Behind the counter this day is Angel's nephew (Angel runs the gift shop a block away), whose sense of humor is a chip off the old block of Angel’s brother, Juan, and something to behold. He first does the mustard-shooting-out-of-the-bottle trick on me, then when Gordon asks for a straw, hands him a fistful of . . . real straw. Our bill was $50 for two malts, but the price was reduced when Gordon said he only had a $35 bill in his wallet. And so the off-the-wall lunacy goes: The neon sign says, "Sorry, We're Open." The door has a doorknob on each side – naturally, we tried to open it from the wrong side -- and this little ditty is printed on the window: "Our credit manager is Helen Waite. If you want credit, go to Helen Waite."
We toured the gift shop adjacent to Angel’s barber shop (Angel wasn’t there) and after seeing all the fun Burma Shave signs, Gordon found a Burma Shave license plate in red, almost the same color as our T-Bird. In a very short rain respite, that plate was installed on the front end. And we also found out that the Delgadillo family was responsible for making and installing all the Burma Shave signs in the area.
A regret: We didn't get a chance to eat at, or even see, the Roadkill Cafe in Seligman.
When there was a break in the weather, we left only to find out that the flashing lights at the next corner are not because of an accident; instead, a live power line has come down in the storm and is sizzling, shooting sparks all over the pavement -- road closed! We found a detour around it!
But now, all of a sudden, the sun is out, we have blue sky ahead and it appears that the storm is behind us. As we move west, we see mesas in the distance to the north and rolling green hills to the south. More Burma-Shave signs:
Cattle crossing
Means go slow
That old bull
Is some cow's beau.
If daisies are
Your favorite flower
Keep pushing up
Those miles per hour.
You can drive
A mile a minute
But there is no
Future in it.
From Seligman west, we are on the longest single stretch of Route 66 left – almost 160 miles. The road is taking us north in a huge half circle, with Peach Springs at the top of the half circle before 66 dives back down south rejoining I-40. We are getting farther and farther away from any signs of civilization, and are feeling very alone now – there are no other vehicles coming or going. It’s like we’re in the back of beyond, just us and the road ahead, and the endless, unbroken landscape – it’s almost surreal. Not a good place to break down.
Vroom, vroom! As we near Peach Springs, all of a sudden we are being passed by one motorcycle after another, and we estimate that there must have been at least 30 or more of them, each throwing up little walls of spray as they roar pass us. About half of them wave or give us a thumbs up -- there's some kind of road-warrior camaraderie going on here.
As we approach our motel in Peach Springs, the sky is a mosaic of color with pale and piercing blues, grays ranging from light to charcoal, and outlines of gold around soft yellow clouds. Suddenly the dark clouds lift and the sun explodes below, shooting flame-like shafts of bright light at us.
We're so busy watching the sky and trying to count the motorcycles that we blow right past our motel because it, and its sign, are on the other side of the road. Unfortunately we didn't discover this until we were at least 15 miles west of it. Sigh. So we turned around, backtracking eastward and arrived at the Grand Canyon Caverns Motel to find out that their onsite restaurant had been closed because of the storm. What? And there's no other place to eat in the entire area except one restaurant 15 miles west, ironically straight back in the direction where we had just come from, and where we had stopped to ask how far back our motel was. It seemed ridiculous to be so far from nourishment, so we decided to go back and stay at the hotel with the restaurant. So turn around and drive the 15 miles west. Again (primal scream).
The group was widely scattered by now: two couples decided to make an 80-mile detour to the south rim of the Grand Canyon and were driving back in pounding rain. Another couple decided to bag Peach Springs altogether because of weather and were headed to Kingman for the night, and the fourth couple had holed up in Williams to wait out the rain. Unfortunately, most of us have AT&T cell phones and we were in a huge area where there is no service. What to do? We left word at the first motel that we'd moved on to the second, and at last, we finally all arrived for what turned out to be lovely rooms in a hotel on the Hualapai Indian Reservation. And the restaurant was part of the complex.
Later we learned that we had dodged some weather bullets today. In addition to running several hours ahead of torrential rains, we also were in and out of Flagstaff before four tornadoes hit -- overturning big 18-wheelers on the highway, destroying buildings and generally wreaking havoc. Whew! That was a close one!
It had been quite a day, and we slept well. More soon.
Judy and Gordon
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