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The Plan

Take I10 west to Arizona, head up to the Grand Canyon and environs, take I70 back through the great plains at a leisurely pace.

The Reality

After marveling at the wonders of northern Arizona we decided Kansas would get real old real quick, so we made a beeline back to good old Florida.

The Route

To Arizona and back, a tad under 5000 miles (8000 kilometers).

The Team

Frank and Pat in their kitchen.

The Machine

1999 Lincoln Town Car
Signature Series, 4.6 liter V8,
four speed automatic.

Home again...

Using up film

Sunset

Sunrise

Observations and Caveats

Biloxi, MI

Don't bother, unless you stay at one of the casinos such as the Isle of Capri. We tried to make reservations too late and were forced to stay elsewhere in this seedy town.

Walker, LA

Hadn't planned to stop here but the cop decided otherwise. Clocked at 89, locked at 86 in a 70.

Fort Stockton, TX (Pop 8500)

Where I10 crosses, Texas is about 870 miles (1392 km) wide. Plan your trip carefully, lest you end up in Ft. Stockton. What a ghastly town! To what it owes its existance I know not, aside from good breakfast at the truck stop. Bad Mexican food in a place owned by Latinas! Beer is available and wine if you're lucky but nothing else as Pecos is a "dry" county. To paraphrase an author I read recently, "Its biggest civic amenity was the road out of town".
To sum up, next time I'd press on to El Paso even at the risk of death by falling asleep at the wheel.

New Mexico

Western west Texas. Nuff said?

Tucson, AZ

Arizona is a very confused state. No daylight savings time so your trip takes you through four (count 'em) time zones: Eastern, Central, and Mountain daylight savings time plus AZ's standard time. When you're on the Navajo reservation (a BIG chunk of the state) you're on Mountain DST again. However, the confusion pays off as you don't have to pay the Navajos the AZ state tax on cigarettes.
Speaking of which, after checking into the University Marriott in Tucson, we repaired to the cocktail lounge to wet our whistles. We ordered drinks and asked for ashtrays, whereupon we were told by the barkeep that you can't smoke inside buildings like this in Tucson! Not even in a bar, no less. We could smoke out on the patio. Yeah, right. It was 103 degrees F. when we arrived. Room service had to suffice for dinner and breakfast. At least you can smoke in your room.

Williams, AZ (Pop 2500)

Not much here except for the Grand Canyon Railroad. Most bars/restaurants along fabled Rte. 66 weren't open for lunch and if they were, they're "smoke free". The good news is that, through diligent exploration, we found Rosa's Cantina where one can eat Mexican, have a libation, and puff away thoughout the afternoon and into the night.
Another haven was Doc Holliday's Restaurant at the Holiday Inn. This establishment also allows civilized people to dine properly. And, while the food was not exactly four star, we were coddled by Kim and What's Her Name That Wants To Move To Florida.
Williams also has a ten percent sales tax (worse than New York City)!

Gallup, NM

Surreal. We checked in on a Sunday and were told at dinner that we couldn't get a drink on Sunday but smoking was allowed. Next AM we went into the same restaurant for breakfast and were told that smoking wasn't allowed at breakfast! Go figure.

Amarillo, TX

Checked into the Radisson Airport hotel. Took a look at the room and checked out. What a dump! If I wasn't so lazy I'd write to Radisson and complain. Sought refuge in the more friendly environs of a La Quinta Inn.
Dinner that night at the Country Barn. Sat in the saloon, a bar along one side of the room and on the other, a stage replete with a concours condition 1957 Chevy Bel Air convertible which just sat there with it's lights on.
Dinner was served by Misty, proud possessor of a world class ass. How'd you get into them jeans, girl?

Route 287

Route 287 runs from Amarillo to Fort Worth. It goes through several small towns that you could easily make a film circa the turn of the century.
Somewhere outside of Amarillo we saw a plain looking hostelry called the "It'll Do Motel".
Texas is big and ugly (including San Antonio's much vaunted but pissant River Walk) but I never met a Texican I didn't like.

Dallas, TX

Well, not exactly. More like Garland, a suburb. Now, for a full year, I'll be able to order a drink on my Unicard, something you pay two bucks for for the privilige of ordering a drink in places like Garland and Mesquite.

Tallahassee, FL

The capital of our fair state. Get off I10 at exit 29 and there sits a La Quinta Inn. On the same property sits Julie's Restaurant where you might be served dinner by Baby Jenny and Mean Jennifer. Breakfast was served by Tammy. I asked Tammy if she was a local girl. She responded no, she was from Alabama. I've got a clue for her. Florida panhandle people are, for all intents and purposes, Alabamans.