Route 66: Size Matters

For many, the mythology of Route 66 is larger than life, but those that have actually traversed the Mother Road know that some of it really is. Large, I mean. Nowadays, we like our excesses as small as possible, like our cell phones or smart cars, but when Route 66 was an active American highway, we commemorated its grand scope and vision with things just as grand in size. Even in the relatively short stretch between San Bernadino, California and Holbrook, Arizona, my girlfriend and I beheld plenty of pompous pavement props, now chronicled here! I've decided to categorize them as either "the wonders of the world" or "the marvels of man," as these enormous attractions must've been built with the intention of celebrating something significant . . . right?

The Wonders of the World



One of the first "giant alerts" my girlfriend and I encountered was Bono's Historic Orange Stand, which, contrary to popular belief, does not belong to U2's lead singer but instead the late Bono family, who owned and operated an Italian restaurant next door. Other "giant orange" stands were opened by Frank E. Pohl in the '20s and '30s and celebrated the region's rich bounty, but this is one of the few that remain standing, complete with Route 66, ahem, appeal. Yeah, sorry about that.

The next few images depict the virtual zoo of enormous animals that inhabit the Route 66 roadside, from the Polly Gas parrot outside of Barstow, to the sadly squashed roadrunner of the Roadrunner's Retreat and Restaurant near Amboy.







Of course, my favorite of these quiche creatures is the jackrabbit outside of the aptly named Jack Rabbit Trading Post in Joseph City, Arizona. Billboards boast the bodacious bunny for miles, inviting spectators to ride the rabbit, so I couldn't resist. Surely if you've been looking to fulfill your giant jackrabbit needs, the sign outside of the trading post tells you where such satisfaction awaits: "Here it is!"

What better way to bookend Route 66's world wonders than with another plant, though unlike Bono's faux fruit, this one is real -- oh, at least it was. The world's largest petrified tree is also in Joseph City, though I don't think you can ride it.

The Marvels of Man

This batch of towering tourist traps truly celebrates humanity's rich history along Route 66, starting with the Madonna of the Trail and Ye Bridle Path in Upland. The former honors the colonial women damned to hear the cries of their children while exploring the Old West, the latter the upward climb to the region's neighboring mountains.

In the context of Old West exploration, this magic lamp might seem out of place, but hear me out on this one. What better way to epitomize how those old explorers' wishes of Manifest Destiny were coming true than building a restaurant/bar with a genie's home out front? You're welcome, Magic Lamp Inn.



The rest of the attractions we encountered were definitively Old West, celebrating the stereotypical culture of cowboys and Indians. For instance, behold this totem pole outside of the Grand Canyon Caverns in Peach Springs, Arizona -- and more importantly consider the bold political statement my gorgeous girlfriend is making. Indeed, to the untrained, even cynical eye, one might assume she is desecrating the spirit of the totem by simulating a pole dance, but the socially analytical mind would realize she is merely physically commenting on how contemporary accounts of history have unnecessarily sexualized Native American culture through such sultry depictions like Dances With Wolves or even Disney's Pocahontas. Yes. She is just that brilliant.







Two of my favorite stops on our trip were Two Guns and Twin Arrows in Arizona. The Two Guns site is little more than the remnants of an old theme park (and debris-ridden, so beware, drivers!), and the Twin Arrows, thankfully recently renovated, mark the spot of an old trading post/cafe, but considering their close proximity to one another, my inner child can't help but think that the two represent the timeless conflicts of the Old West. Perhaps, back in the day, giant cowboys and giant Indians fought in this desert stretch, with these the only signs of that lofty legendary battle. Maybe that's why they call it "high" noon -- because these old icons were just that tall . . . or you'd have to be high to think of such a thing.



Finally, the best way to end this journal of our gigantic journey is here, at the Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, Arizona. These wigwams are truly larger than life, and for a price as reasonable as any other roadside motel, you can sleep in one! In a way, residing in a wigwam if only for one night helps the weary traveller feel as big as the other giants along Route 66, becoming in some small way a part of the grand mythology that consumes America's Mother Road. I was certainly grateful for our stay in that strange round room, which reminded me that no matter how far we've come from Route 66's rich history, no matter how our tastes have seemingly shrunk over the years, some things eventually come full circle. High hopes for humanity, indeed . . .

Route 66: Ghosts of the Past

To prove how haunting a trip along the southwest stretch of Route 66 could be, just this morning, almost two weeks to the very hour my girlfriend and I embarked on the journey, I sat down in Starbucks to chronicle the creepy places we encountered when "(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66" began to play in the store. When the song was composed and originally recorded, it celebrated the rife culture along America's Mother Road, but considering some of its more abandoned and dilapidated areas now, the tune has become a spooky echo from the past. I experienced some of these spectres firsthand, and I dare journal them for public consumption, lest these ghosts haunt me forever!



Of course, one needn't hear a "boo" to feel a place is haunted, if only by its own once-glorious past. Places like the McDonald's museum in San Bernandino, where the McDonald brothers opened their first hamburger stand, or Roy's Motel and Cafe in Amboy are actually still inhabited by moderate business and infrequent tourism, but they are by no means the attractions they once were. Consider these signs I found behind the McDonald's museum (pic above), or the sheer desolate desert behind my beautiful girlfriend and me at Roy's. If these places were haunted, even the ghosts would get bored.

The Arizona desert is much more tantalizing in its paranormal possibilities, starting east of Kingman in Valentine, Arizona, appropriately named for those in love with creepy places. The Valentine Indian School was built to serve the Native American kids in northern Arizona (the white kids had a separate schoolhouse, of course) and ultimately closed in 1969. Any school yard can be scary at night, with its creaky swings and jangling tetherball chains, but this abandoned school yard made our skin crawl in the bright light of morning. I found a hole in the schoolhouse's barricaded door and took a peek inside to find the usual debris and vandalism, but the thought of a room full of wide-eyed ghost-children still waiting for that final recess bell to ring was enough to run me out of there. Lesson learned.

Further east of Valentine and Flagstaff, Two Guns and Twin Arrows await, both perfect hideouts for Batman's enemy Two-Face, if even his deformed face wasn't a sight for sore eyes in comparison. These two places are best remembered as current homes for some of Route 66's beloved "big things," to be featured in another blog post, but I'd be remiss not to include an interior pic of the Twin Arrows Trading Post I took when trespassing. I hoped to find an old menu or something, but vandals (and daring historians, I hope) had cleaned the place out of anything valuable or useful. Still, with some of the original tables in place on top of that retro-checkered floor, I imagined what this cafe must've been like in its heyday, the kind of hoppin' '50s restaurant that modern franchises like Johnny Rockets can only hope to emulate. Unfortunately, Twin Arrows took its final bow in the late '90s, the only thing left on its menu now a boo-plate special.

The Ellas Frontier Trading Post (with its adjacent Red Arrows Camp) is a similar gaping hole to the past, less protected and revered but equally interesting in its ruin.

The grand finale for anyone ghost hunting in northern Arizona lingers in the Holbrook Courthouse, which also features a museum and the original prison cell that once housed some sixteen inmates at a time. With sentences that could've lasted as long as 20 years, these guys had plenty of time to draw some of the murals my girlfriend dutifully captured on camera. Further, according to our impromptu tour guide Randy, the courthouse is still home to seven ghosts, one of whom, Mary, was a prostitute sentenced to hang for killing an abusive john. In solitary, she hastened her fate and hung herself; now she has her own bedroom in the museum, where Randy apparently engages her in conversation. Free accommodations and friendship? Who says crime doesn't pay?





To conclude, I'm compelled to distinguish between my first Route 66 post and this second installment, as both ghosts and dinosaurs are creatures from the past. The difference is, the faux dinosaurs we encountered along Route 66 were present as an homage to something long gone. These spooky places still exist in this perpetual stage of epilogue to their former glory, the desert wind that blows through the cracks in their boarded windows a last gasp of life. They're prisoners to the past, students of isolation, traded away for paved progress. You don't have to believe in ghosts to feel that these attractions are still haunted -- if only by the lives they lived.

Route 66: Endangered, but Not Extinct!

Route 66 is like America's embarrassing childhood photo album, full of painfully awkward images of its wanton youth. Perhaps that's why John Steinbeck decided to call Route 66 "the Mother Road" in the classic I've never read, The Grapes of Wrath, because despite their seeming futility America's mom simply refuses to throw away these precious old memories. My girlfriend and I recently traveled the stretch from San Bernadino, California to Holbrook, Arizona, and despite our aspirations to finish the route someday, I feel very satisfied with this definitively southwestern experience, perfectly capturing the past of these two states I've called home for so long.



While many of the well-documented attractions along Route 66 essentially amount to abandoned ruins, these sites are thankfully only endangered -- not extinct, like the dozens of dinosaurs you'll find along this eastern-bound trip. To best chronicle this experience, I've decided to treat this trip topically, versus geographically as many other explorers and travellers have. After all, I'm simply a casual observer, enraptured by the more pedestrian attractions, whereas others enjoy digging up the mysterious histories of these exotic Americana roots. No, I'm a much simpler man; show me some dinosaurs, tell me some ghost stories, give me an old-fashioned ice cream, and I'm happy. Perhaps that's why Route 66 has endured for so long . . . as much as it exploits 20th century America's youth, it unabashedly reminds us of our own.

After a mildly inspiring initial encounter with metal-made dinosaurs in San Bernadino, our next 'saurus-sighting was in Peach Springs, Arizona, at the Grand Canyon Caverns. I'll talk about the caverns in a later post, but I was most impressed with how the air one breathes in this underground rocky wonderland comes from a crack in the Grand Canyon some sixty miles away, hence the caverns' name. At the entrance to the park, this googily-eyed dinosaur welcomes you.



Then, once parked near the restaurant and caverns' entrance, this towering T-Rex snarls at you, a sly smile that says, "Ah, nothin's tastier than a tourist's wallet!"



I actually felt sorry for this fella, though, who brought new meaning to the phrase, "Look, Ma, no hands!" I wonder, did he try to touch the meteor that felled his long lost brothers? Or were Jurassic veterinarians just that bad at declawing pets?



My love affair with these roadside raptors and whatnot ended in Holbrook, Arizona, where the remains of a dinosaur theme park are preserved at this rock store. Thankfully, I had my dinosaur theme park T-shirt on to celebrate the sighting. As you can see, at my girlfriend's behest, I tried to kiss one of the dinosaurs good-bye, but he craned his neck away. He wasn't having it. Perhaps in his carnivorous heart he knew, "This isn't good-bye. Oh, you'll be back."