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Writer Gets Her Kicks On Route 66: Part Eight

Editor’s Note: This is the eighth column in a series featuring the author’s travels along Route 66.

If you are just hitching a ride on my Route 66 venture, welcome aboard! If you have been traveling with us for the last seven weeks, wow! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you we had peppermint for motion sickness. Now back on the road.

We started seeing mesas west of Albuquerque, New Mexico. If you haven’t already resorted to Google, a mesa is a flat-top mountain. You know the kind you saw in westerns when you were a kid. (I’m assuming the only ones that stayed with me this long are old enough to have watched westerns when they were a kid.)

Near McCartys, where Route 66 follows Highway 124, we found a section of malpais, a rough, black lava flow that was pointed out in our EZ 66 Guide.

We came upon the Cibola National Forest near Milan, which covers more than a-million-and-a-half acres in New Mexico. Just as in the Deep South, a forest isn’t what we Northerners picture. The bushy trees ranged from 5-20 feet tall, with the majority being in the shorter range and spaced much farther apart than the trees in the forests of the northeast.

We came upon straight, steep, pink cliff walls on the north side of the road, which we followed for many miles starting near Bluewater.

Remnants of dirty snow banks greeted us on the second day of May as we reached the Continental Divide. I didn’t realize we would be crossing it several times before we were back home. At this point rainwater to the west drains into the Pacific Ocean and to the east into the Atlantic Ocean.

Our first stop in the Grand Canyon State was at a rest area. Rest areas happen to be my husband’s hobby or so it seems, as he has a hard time leaving them without looking through every pamphlet and talking to at least two of the people that man them, as well as the cleaning person. This one was permanently closed causing one of us to silently rejoice knowing we would arrive home with only 1,240 maps and pamphlets rather than 1,307 and the other wondering if it could be possible to cross the state without five Arizona Hotels.Com magazines. It was and he did!

Our first meaningful stop in Arizona was at Painted Desert and Petrified Forest National Park, which are adjacent to one another. It seemed strange that the friendly park ranger in the booth at the entrance asked if we were bringing petrified wood into the park. That is until we learned that a man down the road sells the rock-hard wood and anyone caught in the park with it that does not have a receipt can be arrested for collecting park resources.

The Painted Desert extends over 7,500 square miles across northeastern Arizona. A placard explained how the natural travel corridor skirted “the Rocky Mountains and other adverse terrain providing a direct route between the eastern and western United States. For over 13,000 years people, including Ice Age hunters, Spanish explorers, military and railroad expeditions and automobile drivers, favored this path of least resistance.”

Because of clear air and big skies, mountains over 100 miles away can be seen from one of the overlooks.

After spending five hours between the two parks, we were thrilled to find a room (of sorts) available at Wigwam Motel in Holbrook.

Our “room” was actually a free-standing cement tepee, like the ones at the Cozy Cone in the movie “Cars.” (Feel free to contact Disney, because by now I deserve something for all of the plugs.) It was furnished with the original hickory furnishings and the linens were made of a fabric with a southwestern print. Luckily my husband carries everything, but the kitchen sink allowing me to dry my hair in front of the bathroom mirror tethered to an 8-foot extension cord that was plugged into the bedroom receptacle. Hey, it was built in the late 40s.

I was able to get the background of the business from the original owner’s 78-year-old son, Clifton Lewis, who retired after 50 years of teaching Spanish.

“My father, Chester Lewis, went to Kentucky in the ’30s on a Mormon mission. When he went back to visit the families several years later he saw the Wigwam Motel in Kentucky and decided to build one. He already owned El Rancho Motel and a Standard gas station in Holbrook when he made this decision.”

Mr. Frank Redford had made the plans for the individually owned Wigwam Motels of which there were five in other states. Redford decided he should personally assist in the building of the first Wigwam so Lewis could see how it was done.

“The Wigwam that is numbered 6 was the one they built together in 1946. They were constructed of 12-inch steel pipe. Sixteen two by sixes were attached to the foundation. I was too young to help, but I remember. We mixed our own cement and added lime. They were plastered inside and out with the cement. We opened in May of 1950.”

“My father had made friends with Mr. Redford over the years. He only wanted the dimes that the customers had inserted in the radios for 30 minutes of play. My father would collect the dimes and mail the money to him.”

The current motel office had been a Texaco gas station. There is a museum in the back that holds Chester Lewis’ collections of petrified wood, guns and arrowheads. Approximately twenty-five classic cars have been placed at various locations on the grounds, appearing to have been driven there by the tepee occupants. I was especially drawn to two of them, a Nash that was very similar to the first I can remember of my family’s cars and a ’52 Chevy which reminded me of our ’51 Chevy, one of many classic cars my first husband, Chuck Kehe, had owned.

The younger Lewis left in 1956 and returned in 1974.

“We still had the gas station because I-40 hadn’t bypassed yet. Dad closed it in ’76 and died in ’86.”

The teacher reopened Wigwam Motel in 1987.

“Those were times when you could trust the government, times of optimism. We were more patriotic. We thought the only corrupt people were across the border.”

Mr. Lewis was the first person I had met on 66 that didn’t think Cars the Movie was responsible for breathing new life into the Mother Road.

“Disney didn’t bring the return of 66. It was already on the upswing. They added to it, but they didn’t reinvent it,” he insisted.

Redford built a seventh set of Wigwams in Rialto, California, making two sets on Route 66.

I was thrilled to find Mexican or Tex-Mex food at every turn after we hit the Lone Star State and was able to eat it at least once every day and I did. I was introduced to it in Phoenix, Arizona when I was seventeen years old and because I am married to a man that can’t stand the smell of chili powder, cumin or cilantro, I have been deprived for the last fourteen years.

After settling in our temporary cone-shaped abode for the night, we headed to Joe and Aggie’s Cafe where I spoke with Steven Gallegos, grandson of original owners Jesus (Joe) and Augustina (Aggie) Montano. Although not in its original location, it has been in this location at 120 West Hopi Drive since the 1950s.

Steven’s parent’s, Stanley and Alice, took over in 1978, but most of the recipes, Aggie’s original, have been used since the opening in 1943. His sister, Kimberley Gallegos, who is currently running the business, has added a fruit burrito to the menu.

Cars the Movie was brought up again when Steven said, “Stanley, the founder of Radiator Springs and his wife, Lissy, were modeled after my parents, Stanley and Alice.”

A tour company uses Joe and Aggie’s as a regular stop, notifying them when they bring groups from Norway, Australia, Germany, France and Italy.

“Some on motorcycles, some in cars and one group even rented Mustangs to drive,” says the grandson.

I can’t tell you how many times I was taken back to my childhood, imagining riding on my clothesline prop horse as we traveled through New Mexico and Arizona, the very scenarios I had in my mind after seeing the westerns at the Palace Theater in Union City, Pennsylvania and on our black and white television screen.

To be continued …

Writer Gets Her Kicks On Route 66: Part Eight

Editor’s Note: This is the eighth column in a series featuring the author’s travels along Route 66.

If you are just hitching a ride on my Route 66 venture, welcome aboard! If you have been traveling with us for the last seven weeks, wow! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you we had peppermint for motion sickness. Now back on the road.

We started seeing mesas west of Albuquerque, New Mexico. If you haven’t already resorted to Google, a mesa is a flat-top mountain. You know the kind you saw in westerns when you were a kid. (I’m assuming the only ones that stayed with me this long are old enough to have watched westerns when they were a kid.)

Near McCartys, where Route 66 follows Highway 124, we found a section of malpais, a rough, black lava flow that was pointed out in our EZ 66 Guide.

We came upon the Cibola National Forest near Milan, which covers more than a-million-and-a-half acres in New Mexico. Just as in the Deep South, a forest isn’t what we Northerners picture. The bushy trees ranged from 5-20 feet tall, with the majority being in the shorter range and spaced much farther apart than the trees in the forests of the northeast.

We came upon straight, steep, pink cliff walls on the north side of the road, which we followed for many miles starting near Bluewater.

Remnants of dirty snow banks greeted us on the second day of May as we reached the Continental Divide. I didn’t realize we would be crossing it several times before we were back home. At this point rainwater to the west drains into the Pacific Ocean and to the east into the Atlantic Ocean.

Our first stop in the Grand Canyon State was at a rest area. Rest areas happen to be my husband’s hobby or so it seems, as he has a hard time leaving them without looking through every pamphlet and talking to at least two of the people that man them, as well as the cleaning person. This one was permanently closed causing one of us to silently rejoice knowing we would arrive home with only 1,240 maps and pamphlets rather than 1,307 and the other wondering if it could be possible to cross the state without five Arizona Hotels.Com magazines. It was and he did!

Our first meaningful stop in Arizona was at Painted Desert and Petrified Forest National Park, which are adjacent to one another. It seemed strange that the friendly park ranger in the booth at the entrance asked if we were bringing petrified wood into the park. That is until we learned that a man down the road sells the rock-hard wood and anyone caught in the park with it that does not have a receipt can be arrested for collecting park resources.

The Painted Desert extends over 7,500 square miles across northeastern Arizona. A placard explained how the natural travel corridor skirted “the Rocky Mountains and other adverse terrain providing a direct route between the eastern and western United States. For over 13,000 years people, including Ice Age hunters, Spanish explorers, military and railroad expeditions and automobile drivers, favored this path of least resistance.”

Because of clear air and big skies, mountains over 100 miles away can be seen from one of the overlooks.

After spending five hours between the two parks, we were thrilled to find a room (of sorts) available at Wigwam Motel in Holbrook.

Our “room” was actually a free-standing cement tepee, like the ones at the Cozy Cone in the movie “Cars.” (Feel free to contact Disney, because by now I deserve something for all of the plugs.) It was furnished with the original hickory furnishings and the linens were made of a fabric with a southwestern print. Luckily my husband carries everything, but the kitchen sink allowing me to dry my hair in front of the bathroom mirror tethered to an 8-foot extension cord that was plugged into the bedroom receptacle. Hey, it was built in the late 40s.

I was able to get the background of the business from the original owner’s 78-year-old son, Clifton Lewis, who retired after 50 years of teaching Spanish.

“My father, Chester Lewis, went to Kentucky in the ’30s on a Mormon mission. When he went back to visit the families several years later he saw the Wigwam Motel in Kentucky and decided to build one. He already owned El Rancho Motel and a Standard gas station in Holbrook when he made this decision.”

Mr. Frank Redford had made the plans for the individually owned Wigwam Motels of which there were five in other states. Redford decided he should personally assist in the building of the first Wigwam so Lewis could see how it was done.

“The Wigwam that is numbered 6 was the one they built together in 1946. They were constructed of 12-inch steel pipe. Sixteen two by sixes were attached to the foundation. I was too young to help, but I remember. We mixed our own cement and added lime. They were plastered inside and out with the cement. We opened in May of 1950.”

“My father had made friends with Mr. Redford over the years. He only wanted the dimes that the customers had inserted in the radios for 30 minutes of play. My father would collect the dimes and mail the money to him.”

The current motel office had been a Texaco gas station. There is a museum in the back that holds Chester Lewis’ collections of petrified wood, guns and arrowheads. Approximately twenty-five classic cars have been placed at various locations on the grounds, appearing to have been driven there by the tepee occupants. I was especially drawn to two of them, a Nash that was very similar to the first I can remember of my family’s cars and a ’52 Chevy which reminded me of our ’51 Chevy, one of many classic cars my first husband, Chuck Kehe, had owned.

The younger Lewis left in 1956 and returned in 1974.

“We still had the gas station because I-40 hadn’t bypassed yet. Dad closed it in ’76 and died in ’86.”

The teacher reopened Wigwam Motel in 1987.

“Those were times when you could trust the government, times of optimism. We were more patriotic. We thought the only corrupt people were across the border.”

Mr. Lewis was the first person I had met on 66 that didn’t think Cars the Movie was responsible for breathing new life into the Mother Road.

“Disney didn’t bring the return of 66. It was already on the upswing. They added to it, but they didn’t reinvent it,” he insisted.

Redford built a seventh set of Wigwams in Rialto, California, making two sets on Route 66.

I was thrilled to find Mexican or Tex-Mex food at every turn after we hit the Lone Star State and was able to eat it at least once every day and I did. I was introduced to it in Phoenix, Arizona when I was seventeen years old and because I am married to a man that can’t stand the smell of chili powder, cumin or cilantro, I have been deprived for the last fourteen years.

After settling in our temporary cone-shaped abode for the night, we headed to Joe and Aggie’s Cafe where I spoke with Steven Gallegos, grandson of original owners Jesus (Joe) and Augustina (Aggie) Montano. Although not in its original location, it has been in this location at 120 West Hopi Drive since the 1950s.

Steven’s parent’s, Stanley and Alice, took over in 1978, but most of the recipes, Aggie’s original, have been used since the opening in 1943. His sister, Kimberley Gallegos, who is currently running the business, has added a fruit burrito to the menu.

Cars the Movie was brought up again when Steven said, “Stanley, the founder of Radiator Springs and his wife, Lissy, were modeled after my parents, Stanley and Alice.”

A tour company uses Joe and Aggie’s as a regular stop, notifying them when they bring groups from Norway, Australia, Germany, France and Italy.

“Some on motorcycles, some in cars and one group even rented Mustangs to drive,” says the grandson.

I can’t tell you how many times I was taken back to my childhood, imagining riding on my clothesline prop horse as we traveled through New Mexico and Arizona, the very scenarios I had in my mind after seeing the westerns at the Palace Theater in Union City, Pennsylvania and on our black and white television screen.

To be continued …

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