Turning east out of Albuquerque, I joined the route of old Route 66. Nat King Cole would be proud of me--I'm passing a lot of the key notes of his song: Albuquerque, Tucumcari, Amarillo, Oklahoma City. Mighty pretty.
I bypassed Santa Fe, this time. Mary Alice and I always homed in on Santa Fe when we were traveling in this area--if we were within 350 miles, we went there so I could buy her some Indian jewelry or art. Without her, it just didn't seem very appealing this time. Maybe I'll come out next year and stay at one of the B&B's near the city and venture out to the pueblos and on up to Taos. But that, too, is a story for another time.
Take a look at that. Guess where I am? It's Texas, all right. The old pickup's a 1931 model and..contrary to first impressions..its part of the scenery at a local restaurant. It sets the scene though.
I noticed that the famous Cadillac ranch is just down the road from here.
The Caddies are still out there in that field along the road, noses buried, tails in the air. And I saw a crowd around them as I hurried past. I didn't need to stop, thanks.
The wide sweep of this landscape can be inspiring and beautiful..and it can be moody. Depends on who sees it, I guess. Sometimes, I swing to moody.
I don't want to burden you with my troubles..I try very hard not to. But with my sweet wife's recent passing, I must tell you this part of the country really speaks to my lonely soul.