Route 66 Baby

OK....I need your help people. I want you to raise your arms in a triumphant manner, shake out your hair, and prepare your vocal chords for an epic Bon jovi singalong.

Are you ready?

1....2....3....

"WOOAAHHH WE'RE HALFWAY THERE
WOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOAHHHHH LIVIN' ON A PRAYER
TAKE MY HAND WE WILL MAKE IT I SWEAR
WOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOAHHHHHHH LIVIN' ON A PRAYER"

Phew I don't know about you but I'm knackered after all.

Anyway if you haven't guessed. We've reached past our halfway point. I am writing this from a cheap but cheerful motel in Amarillo, and am therefore as far away from an ocean as I can possibly be. I'm still in disbelief that we are alive - especially with some of the 'special' driving we have experienced from ol' Americans - but we are. If our luck holds out for the other half then you can all look forward to seeing my charming face on the bonny fair isle of England in a month's time.

Yesterday we explored a little of Oklahoma City - which really only involved visiting their amazing cowboy museum. Again, Rich and I regressed to our childhood selves, and while most of the visitors were saying sensible things to each other like 'Jean, come over here and check out this old piece of leather. It's a whole 200 years old' - we were dressing up in the costumes they provided for children and staging our own shootout in the old-western-style town.

Today we ate up more miles getting to Amarillo. If we had kept to our original route we would be driving through the desert and just about to hit Arizona now - but instead we decided to make a massive detour...
That's right. We're on Route 66 baby. Well, what's left of it after it was maimed and destroyed for no reason and all of it's signposts were stolen by relic-hunting twats. But I'm so glad we switched routes because the driving up here is so much fun. Stopping at a 'Rest Area' (toilet) you see so many license plates from all over the country and get a kindred kick out the fact everyone is doing the same thing you are. There's also loads along the route to do and see as small towns frantically try to get you to divert so their economy can continue now the I40 interstate has paved itself past them instead of through them. Today we drove past at least five 'Route 66' museums as well as 'The Biggest Christian Cross In the World' which was an interesting sight. The billboard advertised it as the 'biggest spiritual experience you will ever have'. Would love to see them try and keep that promise if Jesus returned. And tomorrow we're looking forward to driving past the Cadillac Ranch. A place next to the interstate where some rich mentalist decided to bury loads of the cars face down in the mud in tribute to Route 66. You're allowed to park up and spraypaint your own graffiti on them which should be pretty cool.

Amarillo itself doesn't have a much amount to offer apart from being a useful stopover town for Route 66 chasers. The only real tourist-magnet is the 'Big Texan Steak Ranch' which is a beefeater and dirty motel with a giant cowboy that waves at you on top of it. It's most famous for challenging its customers to eat a 72ounce steak with side dishes. If you eat all of it in less than an hour - the whole meal is free. My carnivore friends will probably be seething in anger when I admit that I have not visited. Instead, we managed to find an organic health food cafe where I ate a vegan humus sandwich with beansprouts. I know, I know, it's a wasted opportunity but if I'm going to start eating meat I think a 72oz steak-eating-challenge is slightly throwing myself in at the deep end.

We've got another five hour slog on the interstate tomorrow and then we're finally where we want to be. New Mexico. We've sacrificed taking smaller roads and soaking up more atmosphere so we have more time to spend here. And I'm scarily excited by the next week's itinerary. We're hitting the beautiful mountain city of Albuquerque, then sailing up the Turquoise Trail (scenic road) to Santa Fe, before visiting the ski-resort of Taos which is supposed to still be insanely gorgeous in summertime. So expect loads of gushing and boring descriptions of mountains and trees...and then promise to slap me when I get home.

Right I'm off to laugh at mental American commercials.

Lots of love

Holly