Quick Arizona Trivia

Arizona does not do Daylight Savings time, because they have no need to save daylight. The sun actually never sets in Arizona until it has baked and blinded everyone on the highway. If traffic is slack, the sun never sets at all, it just dances around like a boxer waiting to take a shot at your eyes.

Sometimes you can trick the Arizona sun by wearing sun glasses on top of your head facing backwards, as well as a pair worn the normal way. But if it gets just a glimpse of your eyes, it will go for them. Beware!!!

Town Review: Gallup, AZ

So, decided to head toward Jerome, AZ, then decide whether to hit some of CO or what. I did not research it or consult the map. Why not just let the GPS lady in a box do the work? She is kind of boss, but I like her and she rarely disagrees with anything I say.

Anyhow, I thought, "Why not spend the night in Gallup?". After that I could decide whether to take very back, back roads or follow GPS lady's suggestions.

Some miles before arriving there was a sign which read, "Gallup, New Mexico's adventure capital!". There are various types of adventure. You can pretty much file any of them one of two ways; good adventure or bad adventure. I believe there is good reason that the sign did not specify.

I'm assuming there is some sort of historical value having to do with Rte 66. Motels abound. Pure garbage abounds. Worst of all, they think they are such a hot tourist trap that even good name chain motels play bait and switch with their signs.

The competition is great enough that many of them post the rate on one of those moving light signs. So, I saw one I liked, and since it also claimed discounts for being old, or AAA, figured I'd get them locked into the ad rate, then ask how senior is senior. Usually the look and say you have to be over 55, or 50. It is flattering. But then they try to mouse out of it.

This place, however, said, "oh, I'm sorry, the only rooms we have left are ($10) more than the advertised rate. I'm not one to argue about it. When I don't like the way they do business, I do not do business with them. I also happen to know that this chains rooms are all the same. Maybe they sometimes have a king instead of two smaller beds, but they've never charged me a different rate for that.

I looked at some other places then said "hell with it, this place is named Gallup for a reason". I'm guessing that in the old days, if it was as unappealing as today, a sensible cowpoke would gallup away as fast as he could upon seeing the hell hole he'd happened upon. Of course today they even have lower speed limits around the town on the interstate and everywhere just to test your discipline.

I toured the town and am now maybe 50 or 70 miles west, near Chambers, at the Chieftan Inn. Sounds like a condom name.
At any rate, they charge a fair price, don't BS you, and I like the ambiance of this dive. Where Chambers is, is anyone's guess.

All I see is this motel complex and a spiffy gas station, and little convenience store. And it beats the hell out of Gallup, AZ!!!!

In A Tent; DOWN BY THE RIVER!!

It would be a good place for a homeless person who had a car and a tent. It is secluded but close to a road, right by a rapidly moving very shallow, clear cool refreshing river. I did not try it, however I could see the river serving many purposes, including nature's bidet!

There are a handful of places between Arroyo Seco and Taos ski valley ski area where you can pull off onto a sort of dirt road in the trees and camp right by the river. On the other side of it the peak rises very steeply. It is hard to believe the trees can grow on such vertical terrain, but it is heavily wooded almost to the top, then it is stone, waay up there. On the opposite side of the road it just rises up to another ridge, but not as steep.

I thought I'd get the eary weekend crowd but I did not. The place where I pulled in ony had room at each end so the other people were about 100 yards downstream, with some large, and small, trees between us. I couldn't hear them for the rush of the river and all the rapids.

It is shallow enough to walk in without geting swept away, and, of course, it has all those cool, smooth river rocks. In a couple of places there were even little islands of river rock, just barely above or at river level. I stepped in where it was mostly ankle deep and never up to my knees. Very cold, but it felt great.

No cell signals were to be had there so it was a good place to clear my head and pay attention to casting out the stupid worries I carry, and all that sort of stuff. I saw no UFOs, and BigFoot never dropped by even though I telepathically invited Mr/and/or/Mrs/and/orMiss/and/orMs BigFoot to come have some Cuban coffee. I heard the are quite intuitive and all that. Could be a language barrier, even telepathically.

I've thought of man things to mention but I forget most of them if I don't make a note. I made some notes earlier in the trip, but I am not sure where the note pad is.

Here's a pic down by the river

Temporarily Off In Another Dimension

Made it to Taos.
May hang in the vicinity a day or more.
Other than that, nothing to say, and that's about it.

Lot of traffic in Taos proper. Some great streams and camp locales up in the hills.

Don't Pick Up Hitch Hikers around Here

Today was spent driving through northwestern Oklahoma. It is not a highly populated place, unless you are a cow or grasshopper. I drove for miles and miles through relatively flat amber waves of pastureland--most dead grass, I think. Then I see a yellow warning sign telling me not to pick up hitch hikers because they may be escaped convicts.

I'm thinking, "Well, what if it's Cool Hand Luke? I'd have to figure a way to make room for him". Then there is the "correctional" facility. Probably a misnomer. I wonder how much actual correction goes on, or how much goes on that is civilly and morally correct. I'm not one who likes the set up, nor am I one who thinks the "soft and cushy" treatment of prisoners is why we have crime on the streets and repeat offenders. Actually, I do not think the people who consider anything more than bread and water, and an 8x8 cell with a roommate is cushy, have the slightest clue what they are talking about.

Anyway, I saw no hitch hikers. But the next sign pointed left to a lonely and long looking little road. It said, "cemetery". I guess that is where the last guy who wanted to hitch hike home from the cushy prison is.

It seemed to fit; the warning, the Big House, the bone yard. I was in hard core blues country.

Oddly enough, I saw the same warning in New Mexico, but their Big House was less big, and if there is a cemetery to go with it, they don't put signs up so you know.

Finally, I see just a hint of mountainous terrain in the distance and made it to New Mexico. I need to look at the map to get the name straight, but I believe the spooky town was called Singer. There were some cars parked here and there, and of course an abundance of pick up trucks. There was a cafe/hotel that had a sign which said "open". A tiny town with sidewalks and such but absolutely no sign of human activity.

I parked and got out to check out the Brown's Hotel and Cafe closer, but everything looked old and unfriendly through the window, and it looked like you had to go through a foyer or something to get to whatever was there; no easy escape. I'm not sure if you can check out, and who knows if they have you for dinner. That is, if real people live there. Maybe zombies.

Not one other person on the sidewalks, any cars just drove past. No one else stopped. A dog in a fenced in yard half a block away barked at me, half heartedly. Probably a zombie dog.

When I was leaving and about a half mile out of the eerie place, I encounter some chubby girls walking hell dogs in the middle of the road, walking toward me. Smack in the middle of my lane. I moved to the left lane since there was no traffic. They had to hold the dogs which were straining as if they wanted to attack my car. Crazy. I was going 50 and the speed limit was 55. The girls and their dogs appeared abnormal, and not in a good way. They were headed toward the zombie town. I guess I could have turned around and followed them but I am a coward. Curious as I am regarding where they would go and if maybe all the vehicles in town are theirs, fear caused me to keep on truckin'.

So, I wound up in Cimarron. I stopped too much along the way. Once I stopped and Glass mountain park--maybe that is the name--and hiked up a mesa like thing. They have a trail cut and even steps cut in and such. I met a rattle snake and called an end to the hike. We both lived and neither of us offered the other any formal or informal greeting.

Cimarron presents itself as an artsy place, and I guess it is in a way. All the people I've met here seem like they may be on LSD. Nice enough, but kind of crazy. Hard to explain, but it would not surprise me to see people here running in circles trying to catch their tails, all the while shouting undecipherable threats at their pals. What I've seen is not too far off from that. But they are fairly nice to strangers. I have the feeling they aren't sure who is a stranger and who isn't. Charming thing in its own way.

I walked up the road and bought some books from a guy who keeps his motorcycle inside the used book store, and has about thirty overpriced used bicycles outside. All priced at $100 each. They aren't terrible but I don't think they run much more than that new. Used cheap bikes, not cheap used bikes.

I needed some reading material. One book by Michener, I know I haven't read. Prince of Tides by whatshisname, I am not sure. I may have read that one.

Once again I am bowing money on an Inn. This is the canyon Inn and it is OK. I think the tenants and owners are all on LSD like the rest of the townspeople I've seen. To her credit, the angry lesbian two rooms down is a looker, when she isn't sneering with a look that says, YOU ARE A MAN, YOU MUST DIE! AND I KNOW YOU WERE LOOKING AT MY ASS. PIG. I don't know, something about the sneer said all that, so I looked at her ass when she turned back around.

Needless to say, I like it here, but doubt I'd want to live here. There are various artsy crafty shops here and there, and that is good. Maybe the candle shop melts down people from Singer, the zombie town, to produce their art. Remind me to consult a map to be sure of that name. It is not a place you'd want to run out of gas or break down in after dark, or even before. Thinking of that place at night gives me the creeps big time. How could there be absolutely no activity, yet vehicles were placed as if someone should exit one of the shops? I so no activity behind the store windows, but you couldn't see much. Zombies never clean their windows.

That's alright because Cimarron's active populace makes up for it. None of the activity here makes sense to me. It seems to please the tail chasers though. I'm going to risk drinking the water so if I seem radically different next time anyone hears from me, you'll know why.

Tomorrow, provided the water does not induce insurmountable obstacles, I will hit the tried and true Taos campground. I look forward to it.

Foggy Phone Pic

Since Mr and Mrs N1 are being quite slow in sending me pics from visit, I decided to post, without permission, the one from my phone. Since they and the Mrs' parents were snapping away, I thought I'd have access to images and no need to run the Flip or take pics myself. Brats, all of them!

Baby daddy in background trying to run away and leave the child with afore mentioned abandonment issues. The horror of it leaves me too sad to write more.

I Lied: not on the road yet

One more day, and that's it. Then I will head west. I'll leave early tomorrow.

Today I started off late, then communed with the spirit of Standing Bear at standing bear monument and park. The message was clear--go back, book just one more night, go to the noon gathering of other souls who've been to hell and back, pay homage to the Pioneer Woman monument, seek out a coin laundry.

All that is left is the laundry part. I'm not sure why I like this pace so much. My old great aunt-by-marriage also is of the opinion that Ponca City is one of the best towns ever. She's never been much of a world traveler but I guess she knows. She was familiar with the shoe repair place--The Bootery.

I guess I'll change into my Speedos and see if I can pick up chicks in the park. Lots of parks here, so I can sashay around in all of them. I'll bring chocolate and nylon stockings for the local wimmins. That ought to work well. After all, some of them may be French.

Magical Mystery Tour

Too bad that tag is taken--them danged mop-headed Beatles--because it sure fits this present phase of the BallisticTour.
I'm still in Ponca City, and I could easily fall in love with this town. No explanation for that, but I kind of like this middle of nowhere area. Besides they have a Lowes and a good shoe repair shop. Not to mention the two spiffy lakes nearby.

It appears that, if one isn't picky regarding employment, jobs are no so hard to find here. Cost of living is not bad, and having free wifi throughout the city, that would cut some costs. The place is small, but large enough that opportunities abound. My attraction to certain places does not follow formula or reason, just how it makes me feel. I never can say exactly why.

All day was spent in Foraker which is legally a town, I think, but only a few old dwellings are there, and a church, and lots of horses and cows. The last six miles of road you travel to get there is barely two lane, no lines painted on it--as basic as it get before you resort to dirt or gravel.

My parents grew up there, with my mother being valedictorian of the largest senior class in their history--either 12 or 14 students. Her sister's class had 5. My mother's parents and their parents also were from this area and put in many years in Foraker. Some of the coolest, real deal cowboys ever were in that group, like Uncle Charlie and Uncle Don, who gave me a lariat rope when I was seven or so.

I spent the day talking to Charlie's last wife. She's in her early 80's. Charlie like them a ot younger than himself when her met her, hence he kicked and she's been around long since. Not everyone in the family was that keen on Janette, but I alwas liked her. Her mind is pretty sharp and I liked spending the day discussing, life, death, health sickness, and books with her. She's read plenty and was a great one for talking to about writing and reading. Her little dog, Monet, was kind of fun, too.

It was definitely a surprise when I showed up because I gave no warning. I didn't even knw where she lived, however it wouldn't have taken lng to knock on all the doors in town. I didn't though. I encountered an elderly couple on one of the two or three little streets. He was working on some farm device he was planning to sell for scrap, and she almost walked into serious collision with my car. My cat-like reflexes saved her very life.

They were great people and knew my great or grand(?) aunt and where she lived. Of course all they had to do was point to "that white house over there". They even knew her well enough to assure me that she'd be happy fr me to go knock on the door. They were right. She said she wouldn't have ever expected to see me show up but she had no hesitation recognizing my name and knew my brother's name without prompting. I guess word travels so she knew a little of where I'd lived over the years and whatnot. At least she knew I had lived in North Carolina.

It was another magic experience. I think I saw the house where my mother lived and I know I saw the foundation of what used to be my Grandpa's general store close to a hundred years ago. Their life back then was so different from what we know. It stil is to a degree. Back then it seems that one's purpose was more basic and more evident. Survival was more directly linked to your effort and a bit more primal, yet in many ways people were more civilized.

People being people, you always have the judgements, opinions and things that aren't pure harmony. Still, there was a sense of honor and character that gets a little convoluted as our civilization evolves--or devolves, depending on your outlook.

It was a last minute decision to come here. Only minutes before leaving Dallas did I decide to take this route rather than heading toward Amarillo and points beyond. My path toward Taos my take me close to some scary fires so that chapter will also be written on the fly.

Severe thunderstorms were predicted with possible elephant sized hail and probable Armageddon. The 89 year old woman I met at the shoe repair place said it would probably pass us by like last time "they predicted all that mess". She was right, but I've never seen such heavy dark clouds that looked like these; all covered with stripes and a well defined edge. Dark as night to the west, covering the sun but blue with happy white puffs to the east. Very weird effect.

So much of this trip has become happy coincidence and unexpected encounters. It's almost scary. I'm convinced it has been well worth the blind leap of faith based on I don't know what.

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It gives me pause that I find towns like Ponca City to be so appealing. I mean, I grew up in Miami, have lived in the DC area, and am a lad of exotic places and ocean sides. It makes no sense. Yet, I often am drawn to the less populated, less self congratulatory towns. Those places that think they are chic and sophisticated are generally shallow, mean, and uglier than they know.

The Tragedy of Dysfunction Passed Down From Generation to Generation

Is it any wonder certain of my clan has abandonment issues? This is tragic. When will the chain be broken? Much as I love my nephew, N1, and his wife, Mrs N1, their obvious neglect of my darling Grand Niece makes me wonder if I shouldn't take action. I may have to take her and raise her myself.

Viewing this shocking photo would surely sway any court.***


***as long as cousin J isn't a member of the jury---she thinks it was right that my lariat rope was confiscated when I was but a child fighting for freedom and justice

Town Review: Ponca City, OK

First of all, and this is very subjective and unscientific, the town has a good vibe. And why not? They have Kaw lake, Ponca lake and The Pioneer Woman museum. I like pioneer wimmins.

Another mind blower is that wifi is free, city wide.

I must confess, I opted for another motel night. 100 degrees at 730, and not much to go on re the campground, and I caved. I'll be better prepared next time.

The check clerk said she and her husband and five kids moved here less than a week ago. The already found a house--400 per month, and I believe that is a mortgage. She was hired on the spot at the second place she asked. Her husband may get on with the refinery, which I assume is the big employer in this area. In her words "they just give away jobs like crazy here". They moved from Witchita.

Her positive attitude and a kind of innocence I can't quite describe combine in a very charming and upbeat impression. But there is something cool about this place.

Before landing at an inn I drove some of the neighborhoods and the parks by the lakes. It is clean and I like these streets and houses. A nice place.

Somewhere up and to the left right is Foraker where my parents grew up and my cowboy grand and great uncles lived. I will go there tomorrow. It is as tiny a town as is possible and still have a name and a dot on detailed maps.

Many of the ancestors who dwelled here in the 19th and 20th centuries were old school cool. One had gone out to the CA gold rush on horseback and returned with more than one notch on his revolver. He was one of us who has the vagabond gene, however he managed to maintain a wife and numerous offspring. I missed that part and I blame it on the Woodstock nation and the "greatest" generation. They filled my head with mush and it took forever to empty out most of the trash.

On the way here a Mexican named Israel, whose 10 year old son spoke much better English, was by the side of the road with a tire off of his explorer and the family milling about. He waved his thumb so I stopped. His spare was on a rim with a different lug pattern and his tire was shot.

Lacking much room, I stuffed things from the passenger seat in crevices here and there to make room, and put the tire in back on top of the cargo cover which is covered by a reflective tarp. It worked. He had a cousin in Oklahoma City who would meet him and they, being mechanics, knew where to get another tire put on. He called cousin X and it was set. I dropped him at I35 and some street with no anglos to be seen.

Israel was ready to pay me, asking how much did he owe me. I never said I was asking a fee so that idea was put away with a "Nada. Adios, y buenos suerte amigo". Or words to that effect. He got the gist of it and I traveled on. I guess the family had provisions, plus his son was a rather competent little butter ball of a boy. Sometimes it is worth finding out how the story will unfold to stop for strangers.

My cousins, J and S, outdid themselves again showing me a great time, introducing me to more distant relatives and making me play harmonica for everyone. I played for aunt, and for my other cousin's daughter, her husband and their kids. Possibly the best looking couple in America. Their kids were 8 and 10 years old. The girl was oldest and the boy was probably younger, if you see my logic. Very fun and nice kids.

Cousin S pulled out some sheet music and I played along. We did very well, I think. Not everyday that you show up to a stranger's house, inform them that you are kin, then give a mini concert and leave. This trip is like that. I gave the little girl my C Lee Oskar harp. She is learning piano and seems to be musical. She found it al amusing and intriguing.

My cousins are a very good influence on me because they keep me from retreating into my usual cocoon of isolation. Very smart people and not strangers to the School of Hard Knocks.

It goes without saying I couldn't get enough of my little grand niece. She told me the meaning of life is orange molasses. Not 3 months old and I interpreted dozens of words and phrases. I hope her mom recorded them all in her baby book. Especially the first word, which was "Gruncle!"

I promise to spend more tent time in the coming days instead wimping out. But, really, temperatures of over 100 ought to be a little bit of an excuse.

I am trying to watch the money but it is hard, like watching someone give you a shot or draw blood. Sometimes it is easier to look away.

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Quick Austin econolodge off of 183 review: Don't Do It! I'm sure it is a suburb of hell. Sleep in your car and you will feel better. The econolodge from hell is no place for people of our breeding and culture.

The second night I stayed with N1, Mrs N1 and baby, V. The night before I felt it would be kind of an infringement upon Mrs N1's parents and would tighten the space in ways. I stand by my decision but not by my choice of inns.