It was a long drive today – over 500 miles but if you want to see the Western part of the United States, long mile days are required. Today’s trek took us from Amarillo, Texas, across New Mexico, finally stopping at Holbrook, Arizona. The road took us many miles close to what used to be The Mother Road – Route 66. Technically, much of Route 66 lives only in memories. The scenery across western Texas, New Mexico, and eastern Arizona looked much the same. That’s not to say it wasn’t amazingly beautiful – it was. At times it appears that you can see forever.

While admiring the amazing view, a storm crept up on us.

One thing about storms out here in the plains, you can see them coming from a long way off.

This storm was fast moving with huge rain drops. It took everything my poor windshield wipers could muster to let us see. It was over quickly – just in time for us to go to Indian City. It turns out Indian City is a large gift shop filled with amazingly expensive handmade stuff. I picked up a beautiful handmade clay vase. It was available for a mere $650. Glad I didn’t drop it. We left empty handed.

We continued our trek across the really bad pavement of interstate 40. I’m not kidding when I say I had to hold the wheel with both hands to keep the truck from skittering across all the lanes.

It was time for a break and as we were very near the Petrified Forest National Park, in we went. We’ve been in this area multiple times in the last few years. I didn’t feel much like driving the 28 mile park road just to look at rocks that used to be wood. We stopped at the visitor’s center and I scored my 3rd hatpin of the trip. It didn’t help that I was tired of being in the truck.

It was only 35 miles to Holbrook but it seemed like a lot more. Tonight I had reserved a spot in a Best Western. The young man behind the desk was extremely nice and when asked about a good spot for dinner, told us about a spot within walking distance I thought he deserved a raise. I’ll tell Best Western that if they ask me. We unloaded the truck again and after a quick change of clothes, we headed the block and a half to The Mesa. It is an Italian restaurant and lounge and looked like the perfect spot to me.

I did learn something – a block and half when you’re hungry goes a lot easier than a block and half once you’re loaded down with some really good lasagne.

There is something about the west that speaks to my soul. I love it here and feel like I belong. If I could just find a cowboy hat that fits, learn to ride a horse, and inherit an oil well, I’d move here.