I bought it about 20 years ago in a Route 66 gift shop in the tiny town of Seligman, Arizona, which like Clinton is located on the original Route 66 highway, and it was forged by the same metal printing press that had stamped the original Route 66 signs back in the 1920s.
In fact, I had visited a portion of it a few weeks earlier in the California desert (see News: May 19, 2016).Īt the end of my tour, I hit the Route 66 gift shop and saw, up on the wall, the exact same large, white “Route 66” metal highway sign that I’ve proudly displayed in my house in Portland, and then in my apartment in Qatar, for the past many years. After 60 years of service, the highway was decommissioned in the 1980s so there is no longer any official segment of roadway with the designation “US Route 66” anymore, though portions of it still exist in various states of repair or disrepair.
Completed in the 1920’s, Route 66 was the first paved highway across America, extending from Chicago to Santa Monica, near Los Angeles, and during the Great Depression in the 1930s, thousands of migrants traveled on it to the golden pastures of California, seeking work and a better way of life. My fascination with the story of the Okies and Route 66 and the Great Depression continued to grow over the next few years and was indelibly cemented after I read “The Grapes of Wrath” in high school, so I had to stop at this museum and check it out, just as I’ve stopped at every other Route 66 museum that I’ve ever passed.Īfter paying the $5 admission fee, I spent a half-hour looking at the displays and taking pictures, thoroughly enjoying it all. And OK, Bonnie and Clyde didn’t actually travel west on Route 66 with the Okies, but they probably could’ve if they wanted.
#Black mesa state park camping movie#
My parents took me and my brother to watch that bloody, violent movie when I was just a tyke because my Dad thought it was a musical comedy (you know, Sonny & Cher, Bonnie & Clyde – my Dad wasn’t really into pop culture). I got off Interstate 40 a mile later and drove to the museum, because I’ve been fascinated with Route 66 ever since I first saw the movie “Bonnie and Clyde,” when I was a little kid. Route 66 came through Clinton, which back then was in the heart of the Dust Bowl, and now there's a Route 66 museum here to commemorate the highway. Heck, she probably won't even get a single vote here in November, I figured. Back in the 2008 presidential election between Barack Obama and John McCain, Oklahoma was the only state in which every county went for McCain, so I shrewdly guessed that Clinton, Oklahoma probably wasn’t named for either Bill or Hillary. Heading west on I-40 a few hours later, I saw a sign for a Route 66 museum in the upcoming town of Clinton, Oklahoma, which I thought was a funny name for a town in this part of the country.
#Black mesa state park camping free#
But after a few miles of dishing out quarters, I got onto Interstate 40 where the driving is free and easy, like a girl I knew in high school. Jeez, living on the West Coast and in Qatar for so many years, I hadn’t seen a turnpike since forever.
But like I said before, I didn’t buy the extra ticket to make any money, but rather to give me some seating flexibility – and that it did.Īfter packing up my truck, I stopped at a nearby Target to stock up on groceries, then I hit the road – er, turnpike. Of course, if the nearby University of Oklahoma hadn’t made it to the WCWS, I would’ve taken a hit. And by selling my extra softball ticket, I made enough money to cover just about my entire motel bill. I was so glad that I decided to stay here for six nights rather than at Lake Thunderbird State Park with its ultra-creepy restroom (see News: June 1, 2016). I said goodbye to the cheerful staff at the front desk of America’s Best Value Inn and decided that, while it might not be the best value inn in America, it came pretty close.
That evening I pulled into Black Mesa State Park, in the far western Oklahoma panhandle, during a lively thunderstorm. Above: After spending six days in Oklahoma City and watching my fill of softball games, I got on Interstate 40 and headed west, stopping in Clinton and the Washita Battlefield near Cheyenne.
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