June 18, 2021
I’m in Tucumcari, parked two blocks off of old Route 66. This town has learned the art of dilapidation. The wind is blowing with that whipping sound you hear in Westerns. Tucumcari has all the elements of being abandoned and occupied at the same time. Feels like I’m in kind of a rough neighborhood, but I’m not hearing any screaming. It’s Friday night which worries me more than if it was Tuesday. I’ve parked outside of some single story apartments. Parking outside apartments was one of the recommendations I got from boondocking friends. The temperature isn’t too bad—I’d guess low 80s down from the 100s.
It was a long drive from Moab. I stopped three times for short cat naps, once for gas and once for a soda, but no long stays anywhere. The snack bag on the seat next to me was lunch. The scenery was amazing. I wasn’t ever in what is officially called Monument Valley, but that was one of the types of landscapes I passed through. It felt like I was in the rumpus room of the gods where they had left their marbles laying around and stacks of rocks.
I thought about getting a motel here in Tucumcari, but decided I’d rather spend money on a good meal. Got it! Del’s Restaurant—Catfish dinner with cole slaw, pinto beans and a Modelo beer. I stayed in this town about 20 years ago in the Blue Swallow motel. Still there. Looks a little spiffier now like some hipsters got a hold of it. Each room comes with a garage to park your car. At the time, I imagined it was a place well known by gangsters trying to stay hidden from the law. Speaking of gangsters, I tried to go see the car Bonnie and Clyde were in when they got turned into Swiss cheese. That was when I was coming through Primm, NV a few days back. It is held at Whisky Pete’s casino. I went in and all I found was two, big, empty, locked cages. I talked to a bartender. Apparently the owner takes the cars on tour around the country every so often.
Okay, enough of the chit chat. Tomorrow I arrive in Denton, Tx—my 4th childhood hometown, but number one in number of places I lived. We started out in an apartment. I can’t remember the complex’s name. I don’t think I’ll find the apartment and knock on the door and say, “Hey, I used to live here?” That would be weird…and depressing. But I will find the complex. The apartments were the standard four to a unit. They were brick and all looked the same except for the number of bedrooms. I think our apartment had two bedrooms and that my sister and I slept in one. Why else would I have been on a top bunk? From that apartment we moved to the “Ramshackle Farm House”. From there we moved to “the Mansion”. From there we moved to the Shady Oaks Ranch (not in quotes because that was its real name). My sister and I lived in a tent at Shady Oaks for six months and then we moved to the local KOA where we continued living in the tent for another six months. From there we moved to another complex called Londonderry Lane Apartments.
So that’s the kind of excitement I’m going to be exploring in the next few days. Why? I really don’t know. I wish I could be more like eyewitness news—You’ve got questions. We have answers. But my brain is a mystery to myself full of half-baked notions.
No pictures from the road today except this morning before I left the cave. Here are some from there:
Spotty West Goes East 