One Last Day on the Road; One Last Photo

West of Flagstaff I got off of the interstate and took old 66 for 100 miles or so to Kingman, Arizona. A storm passed over and for awhile it was quite dark and threatening. But I got this last picture looking West on Route 66. Times have passed it by, but it's still a marvelous road.

From Kingman, I headed down to Lake Havasu, then across the nearly completely empty desert highway 62 to 29 Palms, Joshua Tree, and home. I could have taken scores of pictures there, but I was near the end of a 13 hour drive that day and enough was enough.

Out With the Truckers and the Kickers and The Cowboy Angels

After a night in Amarillo, I hit the road early and passed into New Mexico - my first blue state since Virginia. I was getting off I-40 for the first time and headed for Chimayo to visit my favorite cousin and artist extraordinaire George Zarolinski.

South of Santa Fe, looking northeast.

I would have liked spending some time in Santa Fe, but I had one more long day on the road and home was calling loudly to me.

Chimayo is a quiet place, except for the nearly constant barking of dogs in the distance.

And while I was there, another dog was added to its population. George rescued the dog on the right (Shorty) from the local shelter and he came home with her that day, joining Buster (on the left) who was clearly very excited about the new addition to his pack.

Buster and Shorty - kinda sound like a couple of tw0-bit gangsters from Prohibition days....

Following the Ghost of Tom Joad

"The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It's the monster. Men made it, but they can't control it." - John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

"Yes as through this life I've wandered I've seen lots of funny men
some will rob you with a six-gun and some with a fountain pen"
- Woody Guthrie, Pretty Boy Floyd

Leaving Little Rock early in the morning, I rambled West through the Ozarks and then into Oklahoma. I passed through Woody Guthrie country and then Oklahoma City, where I caught up to the old Route 66. From there, I followed the route taken by many before me - in the Dust Bowl times particularly - on the way to the Garden of Eden called California. I simply had to get off the interstate several times to check out some of the few still existing sections.

Although the historic highway more or less remains only in memory, there remain sections of the old road here and there all the way to California, with one particularly long section in western Arizona. In other places, one can see glimpses of the old road bed in the median strip of I-40.

Pushing ever West.

It was very quiet.

They called it "The Mother Road."

The West Texas Panhandle.

Along part of old 66 in Santa Rosa, New Mexico. Happy Motoring!

One can see a long way off.

The La Mesa Motel in Santa Rosa.

The precursor of the Visa card.

Little Rock

After leaving Memphis, I crossed the Mississippi heading for Little Rock, where I planned to check in early and take a nap. After that, I had some time in the afternoon to wander around downtown. Little Rock seemed southern, friendly, and (for me) surprisingly hip. I kinda wished I had some more time to spend there.

I had an excellent fish dinner at Flying Fish. I felt the spirit of Bill Clinton. I watched the Arkansas River flow. I slept well, and dreamed of the 90s.

The market area along the river.

The ghosts of old Little Rock.

Down by the river.

The Clinton Library.

"Just a Half a Mile from the Mississippi Bridge"

Hitting the road around 3am, I left Knoxville and headed West on I40 determined to get at least as far as Little Rock. It had rained most of the night, the cable was out on my hotel, dinner options had been few, so I wanted to get some miles behind me. I blew through Nashville at predawn and missed the traffic. Memphis was a few hours away.

My IPod shuffle mode was remarkably in sync with my travels as if some hidden microchip was in touch with higher beings. As I drove past the Manassas battlefield in Virginia it chose Wilco's version of When the Roses Bloom Again with its Civil War theme. In the Shenandoah, it played Bill Frisell's instrumental of - Shenandoah. Just outside of Memphis, home to Al Green, it played - Al Green. As I drove past Woody Guthrie's hometown on Oklahoma, it spit out - you guessed it. Entering California, it remarkably chose Wilco again, bookmarking the trip with their version of California Stars.

Having never been to Memphis before, I had to pull off just short of the Mississippi Bridge to explore, albeit briefly. I wandered around downtown for awhile. The general mood of the day was sleepy. So was I, but I was wired after six hours of driving.

Beale Street was nearby - an easy stroll. Few folks were on the streets.

Clean up from the revels of the previous evening were proceeding.

Elvis had left the room.

Most places were still closed at mid-morning.

Drink enuf of dis stuff and yo' ass will be big!

Sun Records - where Sam Philips first recorded Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, and others. A place of worship to those of us who worship at the alter of rock 'n roll. I should go and record there one day.

Down Through The Shenandoah

The day after Memorial Day I seriously hit the road for the drive back to California. The day was dark and rainy as I headed south down I-81 through the Shenandoah Valley. When I lived in DC, I used to drive out to the Valley and imagine myself living there as a post-hippy farmer of some sort, happily living on a farm. It probably never would have worked.

My mood mirrored the weather. I was anxious to get home, but I longed to get off the Interstate and to have the luxury of taking the back roads and spending some weeks getting to California. So many things to see and people to meet if you have the time.

The Shenandoah still has faint traces of its sad past. It was in the center of the Civil War and suffered mightily.

The three crosses. When I lived in DC I used to see them everywhere when driving around the mid-Atlantic region. They are the work of one man, who erected some 1,800 of them in the 1980s and early 90s.

Wonder why they call it The Blue Ridge....

By the time I got to Abington in southwestern Virginia, the sky brightened somewhat.

The Barter Theater. I took some of my Upward Bound students in eastern Kentucky here in the mid 70s - we saw The Matchmaker.

Washington, DC, Memorial Day - Slim Meets Obama and Roots Round His Past

As I awoke on Memorial Day in my hotel room outside of Washington - where I lived for nearly 1/2 of my life - Arlington Cemetery seemed the most appropriate place to spend some reflective time to honor those who made the great sacrifice in service to our country. I don't wear my patriotism on my sleeve, but I am a patriot nonetheless. No other comments here are needed.

Before leaving, I ran right into President Obama's motorcade leaving the ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

He of course immediately recognized me in the crowd, got out and shook my hand, told me how much he dug my music, and invited me over the the White House to shoot some hoops. I in turn invited him out to Palm Springs and told him I could get him some free golf. He was immensely pleased....

Eastern Market - still undergoing restoration after the fire.

Tunnicliffs Tavern (center)- where I met my wife Avie.

639 E Street, SE - where Rochester Slim began recording. This building will in time no doubt be added to the National Register of Historic Places.

The Tune Inn - where The David Theis Band - of which I was a member - met for around four years planning our one gig. It was time well spent.

Inside The Hawk and Dove - I first sat at this bar in 1977. My waitress this day funnily enough started working there in 1977 - I likely tried to hit on her at least once.