Saturday, 3 September 2016

Day 7: Elk City OK - Tucumcari NM

Gosh, Friday already and not even halfway to the Pacific.  Time to get on, preferably without visiting any tyre repair shops, Chevrolet dealers or ditches on the way.  So having decided that Progress needs to be Made, I got up late and went to a car wash.  And Lo!  The Ratmobile was shiny once more.  Then to see the sights of Elk City.
A big thing
This serves as a reminder that Oklahoma isn't just about agriculture; oil played its part too.  Dunno about Elks though.
Anne Elk (Miss)
Then to the National Route 66 Museum which, if you ask me, is not as wik as the Oklahoma Route 66 Museum, but your five bucks also allows you access to half a dozen other museumy operations on the same site.  And unlike the OK one, it has a set of these, which I have crudely squidged into a single wossname to save tedious copying and pasting of links:
Burma-Shave, as any fule kno, was a brand of shaving foam which became more famous for its advertising signs like that ^^^^ than the actual product.  You may look it up on Wikinaccurate.

So, with the Ratmobile all nice and shiny, shortly after leaving Elk City I hit a puddle with the consistency of porridge and now most of its left side is two-tone red-and-mud and there are, due to having the window open, artistic muddy streaks on the inside as well.  Bah!  Also the wash hadn't got right inside the wheel rim so the thing was still vibrating like TV's Mr Vibrating on a pogo stick, but some scraping with a penknife got rid of most of the mud and a couple of medium-sized pebbles, and 75 mph is now realistic when the Route 66 signs disappear and force you back onto I-40.

So.  Texas.  Everything may not be bigger in Texas but if it isn't it's probably different.  Like the water tower at Groom.

No, it's meant to be like that...  On the other side of Groom is a landmark which you might at first mistake for a stationary wind turbine but which, on closer inspection, turns out to be this:
190' feet tall and surrounded by depictions of the Stations of the Crass Cross.  Number one shows P Pilate washing his hands after mending a p*nct*r*.  Number two shows J Christ picking up his burden:
Out of the door, turn left, one cross each...
I didn't bother with any more as these, compounded by the fact that DJ Random had chosen the moment of my arrival to start playing Black Sabbath, mean that I am indubitably going to hell.  Yay!

You will all have heard of Amarillo's famous Cadillac Ranch, if only because you diligently read the 2012 Automatic Diary, but you may not have heard of the Bug Ranch in Conway.  Well, here it is:
Six VW Beetles don't have quite the same impact as ten Cadillacs, but hey...
Omnes: But tell us, ML Maire, is this teh way 2 Amarillo?
ML Maire: Why, yes! Yes, it is.
Omnes: So u'll be going 2 teh Cadillac Ranch anyway?
ML Maire: Why, yes! Yes, I am!
L-R: Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Boozy, Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Sleazy, Beavis, Butthead1
Less muddy, and less surrounded by the paint cans dropped by Oikish Yoof with no Morals is this nearby sign:
And that was more or less it as far as Texas was concerned.
Omnes: Wot dat over there?
ML Maire: That, Constant Reader, is a Scorching Plain™!
Scorching Plain™.  New Mexico.  Friday.
And I have passed the halfway point:
Now I must do some Proper Planning, as it is a bank holibob weekend all across Leftpondia and it Will Not Do to find there is no room at the inn.

Grumble: A pint of milk in Mr Sainsbury's House of Toothy Comestibles is 45p.  A pint of milk in the corner shop is 60p.  A pint of milk from the Circle K attached to the "gas" station across the road is $1.49, and that's for a feeble USAnian pint too.  Bloody robbers!

Edit: The Automatic Diary is now in the Mountain time zone, so seven hours behind BRITAIN, but will fluctuate a bit because Arizona doesn't do Daylight Saving and then I hit the Pacific zone once in California, which hopefully will be by the time BRITONS such as Miss von Brandenburg are scoffing their brekko on Tuesday morning.
  1. Lie

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