Escape From L.A. pt. 3 - Where we kick a bunch of states' asses.
When I left off, we were in Santa Rosa NM. Not far from the border, really. We got into the truck after a nifty breakfast with the aforementioned waffle irons, and headed off on our merry way.
Along I-40, you see a lot of the same sights you see along I-10 in New Mexico, Arizona, etc. Namely, places trying to exploit the local Native American population by selling REAL INDIAN JEWELRY and NATIVE BALNKETS!!! Seeing as the relationship between the Natives and the white people is somewhat tense on the subject of blankets in particular, I've always chosen to pass those "bargains" by. Haven't ever stopped to check out any of the jewelry because, as just about anyone who's met me can attest, I don't wear much of it. I'd rather they stuck to peddling prickly pear jelly and random cactus tchotchkes, but who am I?
Anyway, we stopped at exit 321 just to have a look around and maybe get some gas, and found ourselves at one of the lamest stops on our whole trip. This beats the Love's truck stop outside Albuquerque that had a Port-o-Potty trailer instead of actual functioning flushies, even. Sure, there was a Dairy Queen Brazier inside (much like the stop on I-10 where you can see THE THING!!!), but the actual gifty shop area was dirty, had a completely lame-ass and random collection of horrible shit souvenirs for purchase, the help was surly, and the NATIVE BLANKETS were 100% acrylic. Which causes me to have doubts about the provenance of said blankets. I'm thinking perhaps native Chinese may have created them, but I strongly doubt there were any Native Americans involved in that shit. Onward we go, unrefreshed, to Texas.
Ah, Texas. Where Nick saw his first ever tumbleweed.
We're traveling along, we get close to Amarillo and it's time to get some fuel. We gas up, and I ask the gentleman behind the counter where we can find good barbecue along this stretch of road, seeing as we're going straight through. It would, after all, be a bit of sacrilege to go through TX without having a nibble. As he speaks to me, the skies crack open and bathe me in sunlight. Angels begin to sing. "There's a Rudy's just a few exits down. It's right on I-40, just off the exit. You can't miss it!" I swear, I nearly peed my pants from sheer joy.
We get in the car as I'm doing Happy BBQ Dances and telling Nick that oh yes, he's gonna have him a DAMN good lunch. Sure enough, I see the sign from the freeway. We exit, pull in to the parking lot, ask Charlotte to guard the truck, and open the truck doors onto one of the best smells in the world. As we walk in, I explain how this all works to Nick, and the manager behind the counter looks up and says, "You want a job?" I explain a little bit more to Nick, and then let the Manager take over. I know what I want already.
Once the food arrives, we haul it to the table, and Nick takes a bite, he understands why I've been in such a froth ever since the guy at the rest stop mentioned the name of this blessed place. He continued with such gusto that he managed to put away over a pound of meat, two sides, and banana puddin'.
We got done at Rudy's after a nice leisurely feed and headed around the corner to Kolache Cafe to get some of that delicious Czech deliciousness. Okay, they're pastries. Like, sweet rolls with various fillings. I can't describe them properly. But I picked up a dozen and we got our hefty asses back on the road.
We got through OK with nothing much really to report. Didn't get to stop in Shawnee to see if Arabicus was still working at the Denny's there, but that's okay.
Once we arrive in AR, we make our first stop there at another Love's truck stop. I open my door and find that I'm being confronted by what I will now forever refer to as an Arkansas Welcome Mat: a giant pile of thick beige vomit. However, once we got inside, I noticed that they had some lovely walking sticks for men marketed as the "Bubba Stik" and for women as the "Lady Bubba Stik". This tickled me to no end. Lady Bubba. Actually, I think that was the name of the battleaxe behind the counter, truth be told.
Arkansas shows us really the first weather we've seen. So far, no rain and no snow, no sleet or hail. Once we get into AR, though, the fog is thick as hell. Eventually, we have to stop even though we're mostly through it. Nick just can't drive any further. We make it as far as Lonoke, and hit up a Super 8 there. Thankya FSM, there's actual carpet in the room! Also, a lone computer terminal in the lobby for guest use. Too bad it's goddamn 4am when we arrive.
Time zones SUCK when you're going West to East.
Along I-40, you see a lot of the same sights you see along I-10 in New Mexico, Arizona, etc. Namely, places trying to exploit the local Native American population by selling REAL INDIAN JEWELRY and NATIVE BALNKETS!!! Seeing as the relationship between the Natives and the white people is somewhat tense on the subject of blankets in particular, I've always chosen to pass those "bargains" by. Haven't ever stopped to check out any of the jewelry because, as just about anyone who's met me can attest, I don't wear much of it. I'd rather they stuck to peddling prickly pear jelly and random cactus tchotchkes, but who am I?
Anyway, we stopped at exit 321 just to have a look around and maybe get some gas, and found ourselves at one of the lamest stops on our whole trip. This beats the Love's truck stop outside Albuquerque that had a Port-o-Potty trailer instead of actual functioning flushies, even. Sure, there was a Dairy Queen Brazier inside (much like the stop on I-10 where you can see THE THING!!!), but the actual gifty shop area was dirty, had a completely lame-ass and random collection of horrible shit souvenirs for purchase, the help was surly, and the NATIVE BLANKETS were 100% acrylic. Which causes me to have doubts about the provenance of said blankets. I'm thinking perhaps native Chinese may have created them, but I strongly doubt there were any Native Americans involved in that shit. Onward we go, unrefreshed, to Texas.
Ah, Texas. Where Nick saw his first ever tumbleweed.
We're traveling along, we get close to Amarillo and it's time to get some fuel. We gas up, and I ask the gentleman behind the counter where we can find good barbecue along this stretch of road, seeing as we're going straight through. It would, after all, be a bit of sacrilege to go through TX without having a nibble. As he speaks to me, the skies crack open and bathe me in sunlight. Angels begin to sing. "There's a Rudy's just a few exits down. It's right on I-40, just off the exit. You can't miss it!" I swear, I nearly peed my pants from sheer joy.
We get in the car as I'm doing Happy BBQ Dances and telling Nick that oh yes, he's gonna have him a DAMN good lunch. Sure enough, I see the sign from the freeway. We exit, pull in to the parking lot, ask Charlotte to guard the truck, and open the truck doors onto one of the best smells in the world. As we walk in, I explain how this all works to Nick, and the manager behind the counter looks up and says, "You want a job?" I explain a little bit more to Nick, and then let the Manager take over. I know what I want already.
Once the food arrives, we haul it to the table, and Nick takes a bite, he understands why I've been in such a froth ever since the guy at the rest stop mentioned the name of this blessed place. He continued with such gusto that he managed to put away over a pound of meat, two sides, and banana puddin'.
We got done at Rudy's after a nice leisurely feed and headed around the corner to Kolache Cafe to get some of that delicious Czech deliciousness. Okay, they're pastries. Like, sweet rolls with various fillings. I can't describe them properly. But I picked up a dozen and we got our hefty asses back on the road.
We got through OK with nothing much really to report. Didn't get to stop in Shawnee to see if Arabicus was still working at the Denny's there, but that's okay.
Once we arrive in AR, we make our first stop there at another Love's truck stop. I open my door and find that I'm being confronted by what I will now forever refer to as an Arkansas Welcome Mat: a giant pile of thick beige vomit. However, once we got inside, I noticed that they had some lovely walking sticks for men marketed as the "Bubba Stik" and for women as the "Lady Bubba Stik". This tickled me to no end. Lady Bubba. Actually, I think that was the name of the battleaxe behind the counter, truth be told.
Arkansas shows us really the first weather we've seen. So far, no rain and no snow, no sleet or hail. Once we get into AR, though, the fog is thick as hell. Eventually, we have to stop even though we're mostly through it. Nick just can't drive any further. We make it as far as Lonoke, and hit up a Super 8 there. Thankya FSM, there's actual carpet in the room! Also, a lone computer terminal in the lobby for guest use. Too bad it's goddamn 4am when we arrive.
Time zones SUCK when you're going West to East.