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[Backdated entry]
The nice thing about moving west through time zones is that it always feels like I'm getting an early start on the day. I woke up, showered, prepped (including refilling my water bottles with some of the Brinkley Inn's strangely sweet-tasting tap water), and got back on the road earlier than I usally do much of anything when I'm back home. :) I felt really good this morning; a good night's sleep and a shower apparently had remarkable rejuvenating properties.
The scenery was pretty different than what I had been seeing lately, though that's not such a big surprise, I suppose, especially after exiting the mountains of Tennessee and crossing the Mississippi river (and that, friends, is a lot of double-letters to be in one sentence). The landscape that greeted me today was what I'd describe as wooded hills. The tree growth wasn't especially dense, but it held a nice variety of different trees, and the hilly landscape continued on as far as the eye could see. It was pretty much what I imagined gnome country would be like.
About midday I left Arkansas and crossed into Oklahoma, and I have to say, there was very little to mark the transition. In mid-afternoon I passed a sign informing me that I was entering America's center. I have to say, though, I consider it America's west, as I also passed a sign indicating that where I had previously seen Hardee's, I would now see Carl's Jr. This is one of those weird corporate regional transitions that takes place from time to time.
The land was definitely starting to flatten out; the hills were much fewer and more far between. I felt that as the afternoon wore on I was moving much more into a farmland kind of area, though I also noticed that I was getting to that part of the country where the sky becomes huge, so I was starting to look forward to nightfall. The view of the stars is fantastic in the part of the country, especially when I can get to an area without a lot of lighting and where it's all plains. I could do with a little of that.
Somewhere in Oklahoma (and I wish I could narrow it down, but all I know is that it's somewhere between Okemah and Oklahoma City - don't you love those names?) I passed through some kind of armed forces reserve base or something. The offramps, instead of listing streets, seemed to all lead to "gates," but the best was the sign that pointed to the offramp for "Lancer Gate, Liberator Gate, and Marauder Gate." That's some good stuff, right there. "Roger that. Meet me at Marauder Gate. Over."
And then I got to Texas. Usually, any part of a story that begins, "And then I got to Texas..." is probably going to stay in Texas for quite a while. Not so on this partiular occasion, though, since I was only to travel through that little square bit of Texas at the top. It actually turns out that I did spend a bit of time in Texas, but not for the reasons I would have expected.
The land really flattened out once I reached Texas, and the landscape pretty much became pure plains and grasslands. I spotted the odd windmill from time to time. I also saw my favorite (so far) anti-littering signs. It seemed like each state had their own little way of asking you not to throw your garbage on the interstate. I first noticed it with "Keep Tennessee Beautiful." Unimaginative, I guess, but good enough. Arkansas had something like "Keep Our Land Grand." A little catchier, but kind of generic. Anyway, Texas came out shooting with "Don't Mess With Texas." I liked that one. :) I quickly grew disenchanted with the area, though, when the hugest bug I had yet encountered threw itself against the windshield and exploded. It scared the hell out of me...I thought I'd it a rock at first, the sound was so loud. Everything's bigger in Texas.
I also encountered a bizarre weather condition. It was getting late into the evening as I crossed Texas, and I was travelling right toward the setting sun. That was blinding enough, but then I got caught in a crazy sunshower that made things even worse. I was treated to the incredibly strange sensation of being blinded by both the sun and the rain at the same time...I had to squint to see in the sunlight, and I could barely make anything out through the splashes on the winshield, which then started to fog up. What was really weird was that things looked mighty clear out of my rear-view mirror; there was no sun, and the back window wasn't at all affected by the rain. Irrationally, I was having thoughts of turning the truck around and driving in reverse. Thankfully, though, the storm didn't last long, and things got more or less back to normal. For the moment.
About, oh, two thirds of the way through that top part of Texas is the city of Amarillo, where I decided to make a food and fuel stop. I gassed up, thanked the rain for saving me the trouble of scrubbing the windshield, and then parked the truck to pick up some food and make some phone calls. My mom had called some time previously and said I should check in from time to time, so I called her up to assure her that I was still alive. While on the phone with her, though, I noticed that there was a small river coming out from under the truck. Bending down, I looked underneath and saw that something was dripping out of the undercarriage. Shit! I peeked further in and could only make out some black hoses near where the drips were coming from.
Now...I'd like to pause here and say that I know nothing about the mechanics of cars. I can put gas in it and push the little pedal to make it go, and when push comes to shove, I can change a tire. But I know nothing about engines. Save for this: they are not supposed to leak liquid onto the ground. I got off the phone with my mom and tried to investigate what was happening. The liquid seemed thin and watery...and colorless...and it didn't smell like anything, so I took those all to be good signs; I expect any vital engine fluids to be garishly colored, odiferous, or both.
Still, there was quite a bit of liquid coming out of this vehicle and now forming a small pool in the parking lot, and it showed no sign of letting up any time soon, so I txted my sister to see if she was available for consultation. She was, and neither one of us really had an idea of what could be going on. She didn't think it sounded dangerous or anything, and I had to agree, really. At some pointed I scooted further under the truck and determined that the drip was not coming from a hose, as I had first thought, but from somewhere else...something that looked more chassis-related than engine-related. We pretty much just decided it was probably rainwater (maybe from this last shower) that had collected somewhere and was emptying out. Nevertheless, she advised me to keep a gallon jug of water in the car, just in case anything happened, and to keep an eye on the dials for a while. Sounded good to me. I let the thing be for a while and picked up some food (and a gallon of water) for the road. Onward!
Nothing ever seemed to come of that, I should add. The dials never showed any problems, and I never saw a similar happening for the rest of the trip. I'm guessing that it was just rain-related water accumulation, and I've just let it go at that. After leaving Amarillo, though, between the attention I was trying to pay to the car and the overwhelming smell of cow farms for miles after the city, it was quite a while until I got around to eating dinner.
At any rate, I never did get to see the starscape I was waiting for, though I did get an equally impressive show. More stormclouds had rolled into the area, so the night sky was basically blotted out by that. But they did bring with them an impressive lightning show, which I was able to view from afar and appreciate. I was impressed, actually, by just how far away the storm looked. I definitely couldn't hear any thunder or anything, but it just looked really far away, one of the benefits of a featureless landscape. Things were basically clear where I was, but I could see that somwhere out there, they were having a pretty stormy time of it. I eventually crossed another border into New Mexico (and Mountain Time), and I still wasn't in the storm, so it was definitely some significant number of miles away.
New Mexico was a mixed blessing, in that the speed limit was raised to 75, which was excellent, but that the road conditions seriously deteriorated, which was not. I felt they were just teasing me, giving me the legal go-ahead to speed down the highway but making it a pretty uncomfortable ride. I'll take it, though...it was better than the bizarre Texas speed limit of 70, but 65 at night. Yeah, so...what's going on at night that 70 is suddenly unsafe but 65 is okay? I shake my head at Texas.
My geography ignorance was showing again, but this time in the opposite direction as before. In talking with my sister and mentioning that I was in Amarillo, she seemed to think I was pretty close to Vegas. I knew I only had New Mexico and Arizona to go, but in my mind, western states are gigantic and take forever to cross. I had checked the map, though, and it did indeed look like I could make Vegas by the next night. So I didn't forge too deeply into New Mexico before deciding to call it a night. I enjoyed the hotel experience so much that I decided to get another room, so I pulled into Santa Rosa, New Mexico ("the City of Natural Lakes") and pulled into the Budget Inn. Budget, indeed...I was afraid the sink was going to fall off the wall. Still, a place to sleep is a place to sleep, so I called it a night, realizing that this might be the last night I spend on the road.
Sited:
Stuttgart, AR - made a nice companion to Germantown, I thought.
Armadillo? - I saw what I could have sworn was a roadkilled armadillo in Arkansas. I thought about it later, though, and while I know armadillo is common enough roadkill in some parts of the country, do they make it all the way to Arkansas? I guess it might have been a possum.
The Cock--Walk Restaurant (Arkansas) - it's good enough that your restaurant is called "Cock--Walk" and you have a gigantic billboard on the interstate; did you really also need a pimp hat for an emblem?
Toad Suck Park (Arkansas) - fun for the whole family.
Regional Vocabulary - part of the fun of radio surfing is picking up little bits of local culture here and there. For example, I learned that the Arkansas/Oklahoma border area is sometimes referred to as "Arklahoma." Dig it.
Regional Industry - in Oklahoma, just as I noticed the landscape flattening out and the farmland beginning, I passed a sign advertising "llamas and miniature donkeys." I guess they have to come from somewhere.
Spaceport, OK - 'nuff said.
Bushland, TX - I really hope that was named before the Presidents started happening.
Las Vegas, NM - yes, you read that right: Las Vegas, New Mexico. Don't be fooled by imitations!
Montoya, NM - named for a slain father. Prepare to die.
Travel time: about 14 hours
Travel distance: 825 miles
The nice thing about moving west through time zones is that it always feels like I'm getting an early start on the day. I woke up, showered, prepped (including refilling my water bottles with some of the Brinkley Inn's strangely sweet-tasting tap water), and got back on the road earlier than I usally do much of anything when I'm back home. :) I felt really good this morning; a good night's sleep and a shower apparently had remarkable rejuvenating properties.
The scenery was pretty different than what I had been seeing lately, though that's not such a big surprise, I suppose, especially after exiting the mountains of Tennessee and crossing the Mississippi river (and that, friends, is a lot of double-letters to be in one sentence). The landscape that greeted me today was what I'd describe as wooded hills. The tree growth wasn't especially dense, but it held a nice variety of different trees, and the hilly landscape continued on as far as the eye could see. It was pretty much what I imagined gnome country would be like.
About midday I left Arkansas and crossed into Oklahoma, and I have to say, there was very little to mark the transition. In mid-afternoon I passed a sign informing me that I was entering America's center. I have to say, though, I consider it America's west, as I also passed a sign indicating that where I had previously seen Hardee's, I would now see Carl's Jr. This is one of those weird corporate regional transitions that takes place from time to time.
The land was definitely starting to flatten out; the hills were much fewer and more far between. I felt that as the afternoon wore on I was moving much more into a farmland kind of area, though I also noticed that I was getting to that part of the country where the sky becomes huge, so I was starting to look forward to nightfall. The view of the stars is fantastic in the part of the country, especially when I can get to an area without a lot of lighting and where it's all plains. I could do with a little of that.
Somewhere in Oklahoma (and I wish I could narrow it down, but all I know is that it's somewhere between Okemah and Oklahoma City - don't you love those names?) I passed through some kind of armed forces reserve base or something. The offramps, instead of listing streets, seemed to all lead to "gates," but the best was the sign that pointed to the offramp for "Lancer Gate, Liberator Gate, and Marauder Gate." That's some good stuff, right there. "Roger that. Meet me at Marauder Gate. Over."
And then I got to Texas. Usually, any part of a story that begins, "And then I got to Texas..." is probably going to stay in Texas for quite a while. Not so on this partiular occasion, though, since I was only to travel through that little square bit of Texas at the top. It actually turns out that I did spend a bit of time in Texas, but not for the reasons I would have expected.
The land really flattened out once I reached Texas, and the landscape pretty much became pure plains and grasslands. I spotted the odd windmill from time to time. I also saw my favorite (so far) anti-littering signs. It seemed like each state had their own little way of asking you not to throw your garbage on the interstate. I first noticed it with "Keep Tennessee Beautiful." Unimaginative, I guess, but good enough. Arkansas had something like "Keep Our Land Grand." A little catchier, but kind of generic. Anyway, Texas came out shooting with "Don't Mess With Texas." I liked that one. :) I quickly grew disenchanted with the area, though, when the hugest bug I had yet encountered threw itself against the windshield and exploded. It scared the hell out of me...I thought I'd it a rock at first, the sound was so loud. Everything's bigger in Texas.
I also encountered a bizarre weather condition. It was getting late into the evening as I crossed Texas, and I was travelling right toward the setting sun. That was blinding enough, but then I got caught in a crazy sunshower that made things even worse. I was treated to the incredibly strange sensation of being blinded by both the sun and the rain at the same time...I had to squint to see in the sunlight, and I could barely make anything out through the splashes on the winshield, which then started to fog up. What was really weird was that things looked mighty clear out of my rear-view mirror; there was no sun, and the back window wasn't at all affected by the rain. Irrationally, I was having thoughts of turning the truck around and driving in reverse. Thankfully, though, the storm didn't last long, and things got more or less back to normal. For the moment.
About, oh, two thirds of the way through that top part of Texas is the city of Amarillo, where I decided to make a food and fuel stop. I gassed up, thanked the rain for saving me the trouble of scrubbing the windshield, and then parked the truck to pick up some food and make some phone calls. My mom had called some time previously and said I should check in from time to time, so I called her up to assure her that I was still alive. While on the phone with her, though, I noticed that there was a small river coming out from under the truck. Bending down, I looked underneath and saw that something was dripping out of the undercarriage. Shit! I peeked further in and could only make out some black hoses near where the drips were coming from.
Now...I'd like to pause here and say that I know nothing about the mechanics of cars. I can put gas in it and push the little pedal to make it go, and when push comes to shove, I can change a tire. But I know nothing about engines. Save for this: they are not supposed to leak liquid onto the ground. I got off the phone with my mom and tried to investigate what was happening. The liquid seemed thin and watery...and colorless...and it didn't smell like anything, so I took those all to be good signs; I expect any vital engine fluids to be garishly colored, odiferous, or both.
Still, there was quite a bit of liquid coming out of this vehicle and now forming a small pool in the parking lot, and it showed no sign of letting up any time soon, so I txted my sister to see if she was available for consultation. She was, and neither one of us really had an idea of what could be going on. She didn't think it sounded dangerous or anything, and I had to agree, really. At some pointed I scooted further under the truck and determined that the drip was not coming from a hose, as I had first thought, but from somewhere else...something that looked more chassis-related than engine-related. We pretty much just decided it was probably rainwater (maybe from this last shower) that had collected somewhere and was emptying out. Nevertheless, she advised me to keep a gallon jug of water in the car, just in case anything happened, and to keep an eye on the dials for a while. Sounded good to me. I let the thing be for a while and picked up some food (and a gallon of water) for the road. Onward!
Nothing ever seemed to come of that, I should add. The dials never showed any problems, and I never saw a similar happening for the rest of the trip. I'm guessing that it was just rain-related water accumulation, and I've just let it go at that. After leaving Amarillo, though, between the attention I was trying to pay to the car and the overwhelming smell of cow farms for miles after the city, it was quite a while until I got around to eating dinner.
At any rate, I never did get to see the starscape I was waiting for, though I did get an equally impressive show. More stormclouds had rolled into the area, so the night sky was basically blotted out by that. But they did bring with them an impressive lightning show, which I was able to view from afar and appreciate. I was impressed, actually, by just how far away the storm looked. I definitely couldn't hear any thunder or anything, but it just looked really far away, one of the benefits of a featureless landscape. Things were basically clear where I was, but I could see that somwhere out there, they were having a pretty stormy time of it. I eventually crossed another border into New Mexico (and Mountain Time), and I still wasn't in the storm, so it was definitely some significant number of miles away.
New Mexico was a mixed blessing, in that the speed limit was raised to 75, which was excellent, but that the road conditions seriously deteriorated, which was not. I felt they were just teasing me, giving me the legal go-ahead to speed down the highway but making it a pretty uncomfortable ride. I'll take it, though...it was better than the bizarre Texas speed limit of 70, but 65 at night. Yeah, so...what's going on at night that 70 is suddenly unsafe but 65 is okay? I shake my head at Texas.
My geography ignorance was showing again, but this time in the opposite direction as before. In talking with my sister and mentioning that I was in Amarillo, she seemed to think I was pretty close to Vegas. I knew I only had New Mexico and Arizona to go, but in my mind, western states are gigantic and take forever to cross. I had checked the map, though, and it did indeed look like I could make Vegas by the next night. So I didn't forge too deeply into New Mexico before deciding to call it a night. I enjoyed the hotel experience so much that I decided to get another room, so I pulled into Santa Rosa, New Mexico ("the City of Natural Lakes") and pulled into the Budget Inn. Budget, indeed...I was afraid the sink was going to fall off the wall. Still, a place to sleep is a place to sleep, so I called it a night, realizing that this might be the last night I spend on the road.
Sited:
Stuttgart, AR - made a nice companion to Germantown, I thought.
Armadillo? - I saw what I could have sworn was a roadkilled armadillo in Arkansas. I thought about it later, though, and while I know armadillo is common enough roadkill in some parts of the country, do they make it all the way to Arkansas? I guess it might have been a possum.
The Cock--Walk Restaurant (Arkansas) - it's good enough that your restaurant is called "Cock--Walk" and you have a gigantic billboard on the interstate; did you really also need a pimp hat for an emblem?
Toad Suck Park (Arkansas) - fun for the whole family.
Regional Vocabulary - part of the fun of radio surfing is picking up little bits of local culture here and there. For example, I learned that the Arkansas/Oklahoma border area is sometimes referred to as "Arklahoma." Dig it.
Regional Industry - in Oklahoma, just as I noticed the landscape flattening out and the farmland beginning, I passed a sign advertising "llamas and miniature donkeys." I guess they have to come from somewhere.
Spaceport, OK - 'nuff said.
Bushland, TX - I really hope that was named before the Presidents started happening.
Las Vegas, NM - yes, you read that right: Las Vegas, New Mexico. Don't be fooled by imitations!
Montoya, NM - named for a slain father. Prepare to die.
Travel time: about 14 hours
Travel distance: 825 miles