Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Pushing 1000

Just Desserts

Driving through Albuquerque
We woke early to a small hangover. We had an ambitious mileage goal that day. Perhaps sharing two bottles of wine wasn't such a great idea the night before, though it seemed capital at the time. I'm sure our dinner of pistachios, goat cheese and crackers didn't help much to absorb the alcohol. 

Undaunted we lured Boo from under the bed with bacon and headed off, hoping to find some greasy food on the road. A Denny's sign outside of Grants beckoned so we pulled off the road.

There isn't much near the Denny's on the outskirts of Grants. Lots of dusty roads but none of them seem to lead us anywhere. Just dead ends, empty buildings and tumbleweeds. We had a hard time finding the right dead end. Perhaps handicapped by our indiscretion the night before? Eventually we limped in. 

After all that the place stunk. Literally, the sewer had backed up. Desperate for food, we ate and ran.


Texas. Pretty much says it all. My apologies to all Texans.
I'm sure you're very nice and love your state.
We just didn't see that part.
After Grants, New Mexico was beginning to disappoint. Then came Albuquerque. Glorious highway art. Beautiful skies. Courteous drivers! 

At mile 875 we saw our first Stuckey's sign. We passed mile 1000 in San Jon, NM.

We briefly crossed a dog ear corner of northwest Texas. Thankfully, we weren't there long. It was memorable only for its scorched earth and battered signage.

Crossing over into Oklahoma we felt like Dorothy landing in Oz. Suddenly there was color. Farms looked prosperous, cows looked plump and the highways were well tended. What a difference a border makes! We pushed on to our destination: Elk City, OK.

Beef, It's What's For Dinner

Oklahoma's OK!
Having been in Oklahoma before, I knew it was THE place to eat beef in this country so I asked the desk clerk at the Motel 6 about the best place to get a steak. She recommended a place across the road. Probably the only place open on Sunday, she added. 

It was an Italian place. We ignored the pizza and pasta entrees and ordered the only slab of meat we saw on the menu, a rib eye steak, and asked for a glass of wine. They apparently don't sell wine on Sundays in Elk City, but, inexplicably, beer is okay. We ordered beers. 

The beef did not disappoint and we stuffed ourselves silly. Even the heavily buttered mixed vegetables were extraordinary. Probably because of the beef fat that had oozed in. So good. I can still taste it all.

What wasn't so fun was the fabulous Motel 6. Our last Motel 6, I might add. Most of its clientele appeared to be oilmen, as in guys who worked on the rigs. There was a washer and dryer set up in the lobby and muddy boots lined the hallways, though I'm pretty sure they wore them in the rooms too. The people in the room above us started clonking around at about midnight and continued until 3 when I finally drifted off. Sounded like dance lessons. In oilman boots.

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