Day 25 - Chandler, OK to Bristow, OK

6-27-10

Day 25

Chandler to Bristow

Waking was not as easy as past mornings. I was feeling the after effects of yesterday’s fall. I looked at my bike and, guess what; it still looked hurt with a tweaked front wheel and loose rear brake handle. I felt its pain. My wrist, shoulder and hip were letting me know that today was going to be a little rough. I was just happy that the skin was not breached as I can deal with soreness much easier. There was no coffee maker in the room so I got out my trusty stove, boiled some water and had a few cups of dried coffee and dry cereal that I have for occasions like this. It was a wonderful start. The humidity was getting thicker and the temperature at 6am was already seventy degrees. I was happy to be alive to enjoy another day, pain and all, will make this trip one to be remembered. The sun was rising and I wondered just how hot it would be today. My camelback and three bottles were full of water, everything was packed and I was off.

There was no one else on the road. It was quiet with no human activity, just me. And then I heard that wonderful sound -- the birds had awakened and the picture in front of me was complete. The sun to the east with some scattered clouds and a lot of clear blue sky. I fixed my attention to the changing colors the clouds go through before the sun rises above them giving only heat to mother earth and ME. I was on the road for a short two miles when I heard a familiar sound. BARK, BARK. I looked to my right and saw him crawling out from some foliage along a fence with a home set back about a hundred feet. He did not appear to be an issue because he stood there just looking and I passed without incident. Much to my surprise, I heard paws pounding the ground behind me, and I looked to my right and saw him jogging to my left side. He was in no hurry and remained there for a short time, then picking up the pace to keep up with me. He was a fifty one fifty mutt. While passing a home he was startled by a bark from another dog and ran to the far left side of the road . I saw that my newly found companion was friendly and only wanted company. So I stopped and gave him some of my water, which he slurped up eagerly while looking up with eyes of appreciation and a connection of peace. My companion ran along with me up the rollers and I slowed my pace when going down the other side to keep him from running too fast. He instead ran past me on the down side looking back periodically as if to say ‘You are moving too slow.’ So I rode my pace up each roller with him next to me and coasted freely down the other side with him lagging behind until the next climb. We continued this way for five miles, me talking to him each time he caught up. I saw it was a game he enjoyed.

We finely arrived into Davenport where I stopped to get a cup of coffee and more water for my friend. I stopped at the local convenience market where the old boys gather for their morning coffee and chat about who knows what. They stared as I got off my bike with my new friend standing by my side panting but on guard. My friend looked up as I settled the bike against a post and sat while I entered the store. I got my coffee and a soda cup full of water for my friend. When I exited the market my friend got up, walked over to me and waited patiently while I put the cup down. I looked over at the old boys and asked if they knew of any restaurants open in the area. One replied saying that if I could wait a few more miles there would be better eating in the next town called Stroud. So, without hesitation, I resigned myself to waiting to eat and asked about the weather. I got two responses. First, “Looks like rain this afternoon.” And the second, “If you get to where you are going before dinner you will be okay.” So, with that much information I looked over to my friend and asked if he was ready to leave. He turned back in the direction we came from and looked at me with his head tilted to the right. At first I figured he was just confused, but I saw that he had come as far as he could by his movements of darting back and forth in the direction we came from together. The old boys must have thought I was off a little while talking to my friend thanking him for his companionship and the pleasant ride into Davenport . I thanked the old boys and rode off with my friend moving in the opposite direction. I was really getting to like that dog; he gave me a comforting feeling as if to ensure my safety for the short distance together.

I arrive into Stroud where I had a good breakfast at the Rock Café. The building was built with the rocks that were pulled from the old Route 66 road running through the town. It was decorated with car characters from the movie CARS. After my meal I was on the road again passing more Route 66 paraphernalia promoting a time of simplicity. The sky was returning to its wet character once again with clouds permitting only what light it wanted and where it wanted. The beauty of it all is between earth and sky where they both meet and complement each other. There were a lot of horse ranches with open plains and boarding ranches with puchion horses mixed in with breeders. Most of the ranches sat between the rollers I was not taking to very well. To think I was told by Michael that they get worse as I ride into Missouri , but I can handle it. The land remained very green with fields of hay that have been rolled, not bailed, giving the touch needed on a canvas for an artist to fill in the blank spaces required for a masterpiece. I saved a turtle from being run over. He was not very big but I have seen the results of turtle road kill. I just hope the little guy or girl will live to enjoy this land a bit longer.

I finally made it into Bristow where I called John Olson giving him the directions of where I have settled in at the McDonalds with a strawberry shake and cheeseburger.

John arrived and it was good to see my friend again. He had not changed any, still smiling and eager to make things comfortable for people he is with. He helps me load my bags and bike onto the back of his truck while talking and catching up on times past. We dropped off my bike at one of the bike shops for repair and were told that it would be ready in a couple of days. John’s involvement was appreciated while listening to him inform the tech of my journey, incident and repair needs. Back in his truck while driving into Tulsa I asked about his family and father hoping to see them before I left. John replied, “Oh, you will.” On arrival at a home in Coweta about twenty miles south of Tulsa the garage door opened exposing a well-kept area with everything in its proper place. I knew then that this was John’s home. John always had a way of keeping things where they belonged and never acquiring clutter. Very meticulous and yet very humble. Always willing to help someone in need, never requesting anything in return. I was given the grand tour of his home and the bedroom which I would occupy for the next three days. Debbie, his wife, returned from work while we were having a beer and dinner was being prepared. Both made feel very much at home with their eagerness to provide me with everything I needed and more. I mentioned I would be on the road as soon as possible, but was stopped by both interjecting that I could stay as long as I needed to. Needless to say I did not complete my sentence and accepted their invitation. I did get to see John’s son Derrick. He was six or seven when I last saw him, he is now twenty nine years old. It was hard to let go of the little fella I knew as the little boy with the round face, bright eyes and a smile that captured the curiosity of what he was thinking of doing next. He was a short, stocky kid with curly blond brown hair, and always running around never afraid to try something different. Well he has kept that excitement in life by his successful football years while racing and performing tricks on dirt bikes. One of his great accomplishments was taking Oklahoma State Weight Lifting Champ in his weight division. John, being the proud father he is, saved all the clippings of Derrick’s years of competition through his school years. I was very proud to see Derrick embrace his father with a kiss, saying I love you as he departed the house for the evening. I mentioned this to John and told him that Derrick is an extension of his father’s love. Debbie reaffirmed this and said John was a dedicated man to his family. Both demonstrated a mutual love and affection through their compliments and respect for each. I got to see John’s father the next day. Mr. Olson lives a few long blocks away and was surprised by my visit. I was very happy to see him in good health. He had a couple of heart surgeries and a bout with prostate cancer, all of which he has managed to conquer. He is eighty three years old now but looks a healthy sixty three, still plays golf and fishes with John and Derrick and keeps himself occupied in between games. I always thought how wonderful it was that where ever John went his dad followed. Before we left John embraced his father and told him, “I love you” and Mr. Olson in return said the same. In the truck on our return to his home I told John we shared the same love for our fathers. He answered “I know, I remember your dad.”

My time with John and Debbie was filled with good laughter, food and, of course, a few beers. What I will remember most is the warmth of the home and feeling of belonging there. One other thing remains with me. John’s home sits on acre with a creek running along the back side of his back yard. He has planted grass and cares for it accordingly. The one thing that has him on his toes are the moles that leave mounds of dirt after a night’s digging. He told me that he tried everything that is sold in the gardening department and all have failed to completely get rid of the varmints. So now, along with his other hunting accomplishments of deer, boars and turkey, he adds to the list, expert mole hunter. I was in the dining room sitting at the table writing my journal one afternoon when John pushed the door open and said “I got him!” I looked at him standing there in the center of the door holding a pitchfork up with the varmint hanging from one of sharp metal prongs. I bust out in laughter because of the excitement on John’s face as if he just bagged a wild game trophy. We all started laughing together and I realized how comfortable and full of life this home was. I will miss our sharing of the good and bad times past with the best outcome we could have ever expected. The health and happiness of our children, with the ability to still help them in need and the never bending of parental love for them. Thank you all for the wonderful time together and your display of love and respect. It was a good rest and refilling of a cup half empty. I will be back for another session in Cowedan life.

Tomorrow, Tulsa to Claremore

Luv ya all

Old man admiring Jeremiah John-son

Day 24 - Oklahoma City to Chandler, OK

6-26-10

Day 24

Oklahoma City to Chandler

It was time to leave again, so we packed the bike and gear into the van and fastened the kids down with Rochelle in the back seat. The weather remained consistent during my stay, so today was very much like the day I arrived. It was going to be warm in the high 90s with humidity a factor in comfort, but I was ready for the road and all the good that would come my way. Michael dropped me off in Arcadia where the Round Barn is an attraction, and it was big and red. I wondered why it was not called the Big Round Red Barn! It was built in 1898, originally used for sheltering livestock and, most importantly, used for dances for the town folk. Gotta have fun sometimes. With the decline of Route 66, the barn became dilapidated and before its demise was restored in the late 1980’s by Luke Robison, a retired contractor. He and other retired contractors were given the name ‘The Over the Hill Gang’ and are responsible for its restoration.

I gave Michael and Rachelle a big kiss and a hug. The babies, of course, were given kisses and hugs along with my usual blessing on their foreheads, and a silent prayer for good health and happiness throughout their life. Before riding off I gave right of way to motorcycles passing through. I found out that there was a motorcycle run in honor of the Traveling Wall for the Veterans of Vietnam. I launched myself onto Route 66, the Mother Road . I found myself sharing this road with many more motorcycle vacationers and, needless to say, commercial trucks. The road was narrow with no shoulder, so I was riding tight to the edge of the road. The landscape was thick with very few farms and residential homes. The sounds were abundant when not in competition with the motorcycles passing. During this time of silence the frogs, although not leaping, were croaking loud. Then, who’s to say they are not leaping and croaking at the same time? The bird calls carried on as if in a congregation of a million humans all yakking at one time, nevertheless creating a symphony of song. It is amazing how the color green is so inviting, relaxing the eyes and expanding the mind with thoughts of abundant life and an excitement of being a part of it, even if only for a short time. The ride was comfortable and while coming onto a bridge I glanced at my map for a split second longer than needed, when my right brake clipped the guardrail causing the front wheel to veer hard to the right sending me over the handlebars like a bird in flight -- but I was definitely not singing. Instead, with no time to think I did a very natural response which was learned while on the job during our physical agility safety training – PAST. Tuck and roll, but in this environment, the Armadillo Roll. Call it what you like, it worked, because after the sequence of my shoulder and hip contact with the pavement I found myself standing faced in the direction I was riding. I slowly turned in hopes that the bike was not totaled. Fortunately, I only lost the rear brake casing leaving me with a loose but operative rear brake handle. My front wheel was no longer true; even after releasing the brake cable it was still sticking at the top end of the fork. I had 10 miles to go before getting into Chandler , and I was NOT going to walk. So, I did my best in loosening and retightening the spokes until I got the clearance I needed for the wheel to roll freely. Unfortunately, I was riding on only the rear brake. My injuries were minimal – a bruised wrist, shoulder and strawberry hip, none of which affected my ability to ride. I was very thankful for the shape I am in. These roads can be long and empty of traffic leaving someone without help for a while.

Once again, I rode to my destination, hot and fatigued checking into the Lincoln Motel, one of the few remaining places of lodging in the area. I took time to call my good friend John Olsen in Tulsa . I informed him that I would be in Tulsa in two days and in the same breath, mentioned my unannounced appointment with the road and requested a list of local bike shops. He, in turn, suggested that he would pick me up that night. I was very appreciative of his offer, but declined stating I would continue the ride to Bristow at which point he could pick me up there. As adamant as he was in picking me up that night, I convinced him that everything would be fine and that I looked forward to seeing him in Bristow.

Just for a moment I felt how those that have traveled this road with little or no shelter, and no idea where they would lay their very tired bones for the night. Timeless connections of humanity

Day 23 - Weatherford, OK to Yukon onto Oklahoma City

Day 23

6-24-10

Weatherford to Yukon 63 miles

I left Weatherford at six thirty am with a light breakfast. The land was becoming dense with trees and more farm homes. There were more valleys with creeks and ponds. I was riding both the I-40 and Route 66 taking advantage of the lesser evils between the two when I saw which side has the least of steep rollers. I passed open land with cows and horses grazing along the way and had the road to myself when I was on Route 66. Because of the density of vegetation the humidity became more evident when descending into the valleys of the many rollers. The air became still and thick with moisture due to the small creeks and water ponds. It seemed the closer I got to Yukon the worse the climate got. I was told that Hydro would have a restaurant; they were not entirely wrong because the restaurant building was there but out of business.

So I moved on past Hinton and across the Canadian River getting off at the next exit where there was a truck stop and the Cherokee Restaurant. I was not certain where to park my bike. The first person walking out I asked what side of the building the restaurant was operating. She, in turn, said park your bike to the left by any one of the windows. Following her instructions I left my bike and walked into the restaurant where I sat myself and waited patiently. My waitress would be the very person asked outside of the building – Debbie. Debbie took my order, brought me coffee while asking a question or two in between regarding my journey. She stated she was writing a book of all the interesting people she has met over the past four years. She disappeared and up came Betty. She was an elderly woman in her late seventies with a smile showing her vim and vigor. She had no qualms in looking me up and down and making reference to that reason for her presence. So much so that when I asked, “Would you like me to stand up?” She stated, “Yes.” And I did so. She took the sight of my body all in, and we both laughed as she departed. Both reappeared shortly before I left thanking me for coming in, and sharing my adventures with them. Debbie stated, “We paid for your breakfast, so you owe the restaurant nothing.” I thanked both of them with a hug and a kiss while stating I would return with new riding gear to model. The three of us laughed as I left.

Well, I was back on the road again, and although I am recharged with fuel and rehydrated, the sun was still working on getting me to quit, but I pushed on and stop at a Denny’s after 10 miles of riding. I walked in ordering a tea settling at a table with two young men sitting in a booth to my right, and grandparents with their grandchildren in a booth next to them. I could not help but notice they were staring as I was settling. I broke the ice by saying, “How y’all doin?” They in turn responded, “Good, how y’all doin?” The two young men began the conversation with, “Where y’all comin from?” And I, in turn, shared with them my journey. The grandparents behind them joined in the conversation asking about the people along the way. As I stated to them, for the most part everyone I encountered were absolutely wonderful human beings. Most were captivated by the lone journey and the sights of the states that I traveled through. I could only let them know ending our conversation that the experience is once in a lifetime. Unfortunately, the grandparent couple left before getting their names, and the two young men turned out to be Danny Mills and Robert Smith. I noticed Danny had a defensive demeanor with very little facial expression. On the other hand, Robert spoke with a smile showing an excitement in the conversation. Me being assertive in wanting to know why, I asked Danny if he was upset with anything I might have said because I noticed his apprehensiveness in being comfortable and free flowing in his conversation. He looked at me and stated, “For the most I ‘m one that won’t take a trust in people right away.” This time he shared he was a 7 year veteran of the Marines serving in the Iraq War still dealing with the events of that time. You learn to be very apprehensive and not trust anyone but your buddies you’re serving with.” Robert and I listened with my replying, “I can understand your feelings and am happy I asked because I am going to say something that I don’t want you to be offended by. In some way you have to let go and be yourself; not everyone you meet is out to do you harm. Don’t lose out on the opportunities and experiences of the good people that want to get to know you.” In reply he said, “I know. It’s just a habit.” This seemed to relax our remaining time in conversation, because Danny began to show the life in his eyes and facial expressions with smiles. Robert, originally from West Oregon, asked personal questions of my home, reasons for the trip and the route to finish. Both were eager in redirecting me onto the original Route 66 due to highway construction which would have slowed me down on the way to my destination, El Reno. Both were on their lunch break, but before leaving they gave me their emails stating they were interested in keeping up with my travels. We shook hands and I thanked them for the company and making my afternoon a bright one after all. I sat for a moment when Danny returned telling me they had picked up my tab. I stood up and shook his hand once again thanking him very much. He, in turn, said, “Thank you.”

So off I went riding into El Reno arriving with time to spare, so I contacted my nephew Michael Kirkpartick. It was only eleven miles to his town Yukon, so I decided to take my chances and finish the day at his home. I said to myself, “What’s eleven more miles after riding 42?” Unfortunately, I did not take into account the distance to his house once I got there! I called Michael when I got to the city limits, and while he was giving me direction it was in miles, not blocks. It was then that I was told that I had at least eight miles to go. Believe me, I wanted to drop. The humidity had risen a little more and the sun got A LOT HOTTER. Michael said he would have a cold, cold beer waiting. Yes, it gave me inspiration and after some real solid rollers and long country stretches I finally made it to the refrigerator with beer -- I mean, to Michael’s house. Most of all the house was absolutely cool. My first words after I felt the cool air hit me when the door was opened to greet me were, “ I’M IN HEAVEN!” I showered first, then settled to enjoy that refreshing cool taste of beer. By the way, Oklahoma has a three per cent alcohol limit on domestic beer. So, of course, I had two to make my California six. They were good.

Staying with Michael, his wife Rochelle and their two beautiful daughters Serena 2 years, Anna 3 months, was an absolute delight. Watching and listening to Serena run through the house laughing and teasing the dog and cats, and Anna in her silence yet in awakening moments while grasping for her play carousels or watching the house pets in delight. The simple sounds of life resurrected the joy of the wonderful moments with my daughters. If I could I would have them babies all over again. That’s my selfish side speaking. How I love them. It was wonderful spending time with Michael and Rochelle conversing of work and vacations to be. I had a very special visit in their home with Michael’s father and mother Earl and Anna ended with a very rewarding and delicious dinner. A family dinner with all their children and grandchildren at Olive Garden was filled with laughter, good food and drink. Most importantly, family love. Together with us were the six adopted additions by Christina and Trish, Michael’s two sisters. I am so proud to be a part of a family where concern for the welfare of children is demonstrated through their actions and commitment, which speaks louder than words. A visit to the site of the Oklahoma bombing was again solemn. The unanswered question is always there, Why? Only humans have the choice to be productive and yet destructive with beliefs of self righteousness.

Michael and Rochelle thank you for your hospitality, the food, drink and most of all the opportunity to share time with the family. Michael the extra eight miles was worth it. Thank you to all the Kirkpatrick family for a wonderful visit and introduction to our new family members. Love you all very much.

OKLAHOMA CITY

Oklahoma City was established in 1889 during one of the Land Run Events common to the region. Before the US Government was forced to hold a series of the land runs, there were already families dwelling on the land “ squatters” and because they were already occupying the territory they were given the name “Sooners” so the birth of Oklahoma Sooners. At the time of the land run over 10,000 homesteaders settled in the town that would become the capital of Oklahoma. Familiar to most historians is the relocation of the Native Americans to the Oklahoma Territory in the 1820s, also known as the “Trail of Tears.” The US Government forced five tribes to endure a very difficult resettlement into the lands of Oklahoma, and many died during the process.

Before World War II Oklahoma City developed major stockyards and with the discovery of oil in 1928 became the center for oil production. As with many other cities in the United States, the population declined during the 70s and 80s as families moved to the suburbs. In 1993, however, the largest and most aggressive city redevelopment plan was put into effect, and as a result the downtown area has seen a resurgence with businesses and residents.

Tomorrow Oklahoma City to Chandler

Take care and luv ya all

Old man with a smile and not yet melted

Day 22 - Elk City, OK to Weatherford OK 52 Miles

Day 22

6-23-10

Elk City to Weatherford 52miles

ELK CITY

On April 19, 1892, the first white settlers arrived in what was the Oklahoma Territory. Before that many ranchers had driven their cattle over the Great Western Cattle Drive from Texas to Dodge City, Kansas to the present town of Elk City, which as in the direct path of the trail.

Elk City was built along the Choctaw, Oklahoma and Gulf Railroad, completed in 1898. There is some confusion about how Elk City got its name. Originally it was thought that Captain Randolph B. March named it in 1892 as during the expedition he saw many elk tracks near the stream they passed. However, the post office was first named Crowe and then Busch. Finally, on July 20, 1907 right before Statehood the Busch Post Office had its name officially changed to the Elk City Post Office.

In 1901 Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad opened up connecting Elk City to the outside world. By 1902 the town had more than 60 businesses and a population of 1,000, making the town the largest in Oklahoma. Even with two devastating fires where many businesses were lost the town still thrived, and grew into a major transportation and commercial hub

Today it boast a population of 10,000 with the principal trade for petroleum, agriculture, transportation and tourism with Route 66 museum as major attraction.

The heat is not giving in, so I am up by four forty five this morning. I packed last night so as not to lose any of my morning riding time after a fast breakfast and coffee. I say my good-byes to the day staff and request that they pass my farewell regards to the evening staff. As the door closes behind me I hear a last “Thank you and be safe” from the desk clerks.

The heat was already penetrating my riding gear and I had not left the car cover yet. I placed my mind in a cool place, put my helmet, gloves and sun glasses on and pushed myself onto the driveway leading me out to the highway. The Clarion is on my left and with one last wave I was wondering if they saw me through the front window as I disappeared onto I-40. The terrain does not change much at first with its fields of hay for the most part. I am glad I started early because what little cool air I had is being replaced with warm humidity. The road was good and traffic low on this Wednesday morning. I got to the top of my first roller, stopped and looked out into the distance ahead of me, reached down inside and set my demeanor for a good day of riding every one of those continual rollers just as the many who have done so before me. Oklahoma land is very red and the color is not just surface. It is deep and reminds me of our source of life, our blood. A land that once was devastated by the lack of water managed to sustain itself to be productive again in sustaining the life above it. Being so accustomed to the color of earth being brown corrects my belief that everything must be like California. The red earth as a background give everything above a rich color of life. I stopped to use the restroom facilities in Canute at a Domino convenient store. I entered the convince store, walked back to the rest room passing a group of old boys sitting around together having coffee and chatting away. They all stopped in unison and looked up at me as I disappeared into the men’s room. When I exited one of them asked, “ Where ya heddin?” I replied “Let me get cup of coffee and I’ll sit an tell ya.” I did exactly that -- returned, took my helmet off and proceeded to answer their questions. I gotta tell you these old boys were as big and tall as Clydesdales with the same kindness. They listened as I explained where I started from and where I will end up with a little of why. I shared with them the commonality of small communities where everyone knows each other and the younglings are called by their first names. They all concur with a pride of ownership and remarked, “Sounds like ya ben havin a good time.” One gentleman even said that If I had time and energy left I could come back and run one of his combines for him. I replied “The first fifteen minutes are yours, after that I’m on the payroll.” We laughed as I got ready to leave. It was a good cup of coffee and excellent company.

My next stop was in Clinton where I find an Adamo’s Italian restaurant to have a plate of delicious spaghetti with sausage for lunch. Across the street is the Route 66 Museum with vintage cars, gas pumps, juke box and coca cola ice box with many pictures on the walls of a time when the pace was slow, with rock-n-roll getting ready to fast roll into the future.

CLINTON

The community began in 1899 when two men, J.L. Avant and E.E. Blake, decided to locate a town in the Washita River Valley. The first businesses were the townsite office, a newspaper called the Custer County Chronicle and the First National Bank. When the post office was ready to open, the Postal Department would not accept the name of Washita Junction, so the town was named after Judge Clinton Irwin. Later the Frisco Railroad turned the town into a major shipping area. Route 66 also helped this town, and the opening of the famous Pop Hicks Restaurant drew many travelers in 1966. It was the oldest restaurant on Route 66 until it burned down in 1999. Like many other stops along Route 66 there were many gas stations, restaurants and motels. Even though I-40 passes the town to the south, Clinton remain a popular stop since it is one of the largest cities in Western Oklahoma.

At one time Clinton was the home of the National Highway 66 Association which was in operation for almost 30 years. Even though the association was disbanded in the 1980s the town still maintains an interest in the Mother Road and it became the home of the first state sponsored Route 66 Museums.

About twelve miles west of Weatherford I got another flat tire and, of course, it was the rear again. I thought maybe I did not check the inside of the tire good enough having left a sharp particle on the last flat as the probable reason for this flat. Instead, it was another strand of wire from tire debris I picked up while enjoying the sights and not paying attention to the road. Oh well, It got fixed and I finally arrived into Weatherford just about the time when the sun begins to intensify getting the best of those who make the mistake of staying out a little longer than needed. This was another one of those days where the land was the main focal point with eyes on the horizons that seem to go on forever.

WEATHERFORD

The night of April 18, 1892, there was a large group of people that assembled on the western border of the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indian Country of the Oklahoma Territory. This was the evening of the third “land run” where settlers literally ran in the morning to stake out their property as their own. As a result, in a matter of three days Weatherford was born. This country was very different than the country that the settlers left behind, The Great Plains was known for its unpredictable weather, and the settlers had to learn to adapt to new ways of dry land farming. This has had a long lasting effect on a community where they have learned to understand that work is essential to survival, and that change is the only thing they can depend on.

Weatherford was another community that benefited from the Rock Island Railroad, and with the beginning of the automobile Route 66 brought many travelers. As with other communities, once I-40 was routed through businesses began to suffer and close as a result.

Take care and luv ya all

Day 21 - Shamrock, TX to Elk City, OK 58miles

Day 21

Shamrock to Elk City --58miles

It does not matter what time I start now, it is getting hot and staying hot. At 7am this morning the tempter was 75 degrees when I left. To my advantage the wind is a cross wind from the south cooling me off with a little comfort. The hills are rolling so the road are rollers and although not steep can be challenging in maintaining a consistency in pace. There are portions of the ride where visibility is great giving you a look down road of at least five miles ahead of you. The land is brown where wheat has been harvested and many areas with green trees and grass growing down into the small valleys on both sides of the road. The simple beauty of the land allows the mind to separate itself from the burning pain while climbing the many short rollers. There is good shoulder to ride with six feet of space between me and the car lane to my left. The truckers have been very courteous in their passing me on the lane closest to the medium. My first stop is for breakfast in Texola which is half mile after crossing the Oklahoma boarder. By the way Happy Fathers day to all you men with children. After having my three eggs, toast, cottage cheese and a bowl of oatmeal, I am off again and start feeling my comfortable groove with my spirits riding high. But that was not to last long when I feel my rear wheel going soft and starts to fish tail. I have a flat tire, a rear one at that. So I unclip my bags and turn the bike upside down. The rear wheel comes of easily and taking the tire off is no problem. I find the varmint that found its pleasure in halting my journey for a short spell. It is a fine piece of wire used in the casing of the big rig tires. I did not do a very good job in avoiding the big rig tire debris a couple miles back. Fixing a tire is not so bad but to have to do it under the basking sun with no shade is not fun. Having fixed the tire I continue along with sun rising and getting hotter. I pass a pasture with a herd of black and brown cows, they raise their heads still chewing and stare as I ride by. I make a mooo call and must have said something important because they all began walking and then running in the same direction I was riding . ”STAMPEED”, MOVE THEM OUT, HEAD THEM OUT, RAWHIDE, CUT THEM OUT, RIDE THEM OUT, RAWHIDE. It was really something to see these dossal animals in a run. Good thing they were fenced, had they not been it would have been steak I-40. WHAT FUN. I get into the small town of Sayre where my next stay would be, but decide to just have a good lunch at the truck stop and leave with a couple of hours to get to Elk City. For a while I was feeling the heat and of course regretted my hasty decision to continue in this heat with low humidity. Fortunately I stopped at the Route 66 museum where the reception was kind enough to call the local hotels and set me up at the most friendly one in town. I had to ride another four miles to the Hotel Clarion off the I-40. I must have looked pretty beat because the first thing that was said to me was “sir, are you ok, would you like something to drink?” I replied yes, a very cold beer. Unfortunately the bar was closed and I settled for water. The receptionist Erica was absolutely wonderful and Rhonda who asked where I was from turned out to be originally from Sacramento, Ca. herself. Both made me feel that this was where I was supposed to be. After settling in and rehydrating myself, I sat in the Jacuzzi for a few minutes and rested in the atrium with no one else around. This place is huge. It has an open area with a miniature nine hole golf course, an area with electronic games, full size shuffle floor game, ping ball table, and table settings around a water fall with lots of tropical plants. There is restaurant which is very cozy with seating out in the atrium. I am told that the hotel is mostly used by the community for family reunions, corporate functions, and school activities along with passing visitors. Very family friendly. Still in my swim trunks and long sleeve shirt I had dinner in the restaurant before returning to my room. To my surprise Rhonda greeted me with a menu and said you may sit where ever you would like. She was very warm in her presentation and I felt the sincerity in her doing everything to make my meal enjoyable. During my stay I was able to start this journal, rest and most importantly talk with the staff. They treated me like a celebrity being introduced to staff and others when in the dining room or just in passing. Rhonda and I talked most. She shared her life experience with me while I was having my meals and she tending other guest. I with my small not book at my table wrote as much as possible. After sitting a while listening to Rhonda’s life story I felt this stay was meant to be more than a rest stop. Rhonda speaks of her co-worker very fondly and says they are my family. She says she has family back in CA. but never hears from them and gave up when she never received any replies form her letters to them. The last time I went to CA to visit my younger son, I did not call any of them until the day I left. They managed to get together and proceeded to scold me for not letting them know of my arrival sooner. It was then that I told them of my efforts to contact them with no reply back from them and that I had just resigned from any more efforts to be part of the family and that I recognized it was more important for them to be more involved in acquiring their place of importance. So I have not heard from them since. Before writing this I asked if she did not mind me using her experience as part of my journal which would be read by the family and friends keeping track of me. She replied “you are the only one that I have shared this with, no one here knows what I have told you.” But if will help others to understand the reason for hard choices, I do not mind. Rhonda was born in Idaho and raised in CA and after while moved about as youth as many of us have, experiencing life. I asked Rhonda how long she had been in OK. She stated that she left CA in 1996 after living homeless for six months under bridges and other homeless camps. I chose to live that way after my son took to using drugs. I tried everything in getting him help but found that I was enabling him by providing him with home, food, clothing and a few dollars all too often. I got to the point where I was losing everything so I sold what I had left and packed what I thought I would need. When he came home for the last time I was waiting bags in hand and first thing I said was “well do you like what you see now, I am going to live with you now”. He said nothing. I went with him to where he hung out with other homeless and I became the one of them, it was my choice. I learned a great deal of survival, utilizing the food banks and other community services. I found myself doing things for other’s homeless I was living with. It is just my nature to help other people. It was getting colder and I believe that it was more than my son wanted to continue to live with knowing I was living this way to get him to see his own demise. I had been to OK. a few years back and liked the area and people, so I decided I had enough and found work saving enough money to get me back to OK. My son decided to leave with me and has been clean since. It was a new start and not being around the so called friends changed him. He married and has three beautiful children that visit often. It is cheaper to live here, I rent a nice a three bedroom home with a nice size living room, a very comfortable place at four hundred a month. I believe my son would be dead now had I not made that frightful decision back in 1996. I realized that we are not here to accumulate things but to nurture people with many sacrifices along the way. Every day I wake up with a prayer for everyone to be safe, I dress for work and before leaving the driveway I say to God “let’s get there and get them” I ask what she means by that. She replies “I work and meet many people, some very unhappy. Those that are unhappy try to strike at me and that’s when I try very hard to reverse that unhappy feeling their feeling so they might not lose to many wonderful moments of life. I do not have much in possession but I do have peace and love working here. I have a good life. Throughout all this Rhonda smiles with her eyes bright and a solemn expression of humility. Not often do I meet someone whose life demonstrates a brave stance on what is right for her without interfering into other lives quite the opposite of hers. I watched her with other guest making them feel important and respecting their request while doing whatever it takes to put a smile back on to their face, most leaving in better spirits than when they walked in. Rhonda speaks gently in replying to questions from co-workers and always ends with ” it will be ok”. Kim Haas, the pub manager is walking around talking to the staff, she is bubbly and smiling while conversing. This is her off day but decided between yard work and other shores she would stop by. Everyone is at ease with her and never misses a beat of what they are doing before stopping to talk with her. She says that the Hotel has been through several owners, the present one is out of Los Angles. The most memorial are Bob and Anna Redaelli who owned and operated it for fifteen years. They made it a family environment. It is said that many of the patrons stop by just because of the marquis off the highway which said “Bob and Anna welcome you”. They also made their presence in greeting and conversing with guest. I thank Kim as she leaves and inform her of the wonderful service, but most all the sincerity of the wonderful staff I have experience during my stay. The staff that are still present thank her for stopping by, their demeanor is that of family and yet of respect for the consideration and concerns she immulates as manger for the hotel. This is be another place I recommend a stop that is worth the time to visit. Once again my many thanks to Rhonda, Kim, Erica, Shelia, Brent, Wanda, Kendra (Bobbles), the maintenance staff and of course kitchen staff for the great service, food and the opportunity to have befriended OK hospitality.

I understand there are difference throughout our nation but our problems as a whole seem to be consistent in our need to survive as a family maintaining the strength to endure a unity of the people, for the people, and by the people. The unity of cultures.

Tomorrow Weatherford

Take care and Lv ya all

Old man emericed in the joy family

Day 20 - Groom, TX to Shamrock TX 52 Miles

Day 20

6-19-10

Groom to Shamrock 52 miles

The morning came about once again too quickly. I walked over to the convenience store for a cup of coffee, and on my return I caught a glimpse of the clouds to the south changing in color from white to orange as a result of the sunrise with blue clear skies. After the unpredicted storm of heavy rain and hail yesterday, out here blue skies do not mean very much. I finally departed from the motel at 7:15 am heading for The Grill to indulge in my breakfast thrill. While waiting for my meal, Justin, one of the young adults from Dairy Queen yesterday afternoon, walked in. He saw me sitting and paid his morning respects. He walked over and with a handshake asked if the bike out front was mine. Answering ‘Yes’ we continued in conversation with him sharing that he would be attending Oregon State University to acquire his degree in Horticulture and Business Management in the same field. The ‘Yes sir’, ‘No sir’, ‘Yes, thank you’, ‘and No, thank you’ responses delivered with a smile were a great pleasure to hear in our exchange of conversation. I could not help but let Justin know how wonderful it was to see him and his friends sitting around just having fun in conversation. Karen was sitting nearby while we talked, and she made several remarks that, “The kids are good young’uns with responsible and positive attitudes.” As I was departing Karen and her husband Mr. Brown spoke of the beauty of Angel Fire, New Mexico. They attended the yearly Red River Motorcycle Run during the Memorial Day Weekend, and said they were there the same time I was. It is amazing that our paths could have intercepted there, but it was not to happen. Instead, the setting of their community and workplace was the selected moment. They said that before the storm arrived yesterday afternoon they were going to come for me and let me experience the operation of one of their large combines they use to harvest wheat. I was surprised and said, “I would have really enjoyed that! Thank you!” Their consideration was very much appreciated. Maybe another time. I took a couple of pictures of them out in front of their restaurant. They requested to be recipients of the journal and along with their invite to return, a firm handshake and hugs, we said our farewells. Again, as riding has done throughout this journey, I thought about this wonderful experience with people I knew nothing about until yesterday. The people of Groom. They have the ability to utilize the good of technology for their daily work activities, and yet escape it while preserving a simple life of unity in their community. It is a small sacrifice when you consider the overall quality of life they live. That is a good thing and I am honored to have lived among them, even for a brief passing of time. Friends to come back to.

The frontage road runs parallel on both sides of I-40. Again, a good day to ride. The sun is bright and for a short moment the wind has decreased. It is still blowing from the south and is an asset to my ridding. I feel good and very happy to feel all that I do. The land begins to change with trees and creeks becoming part of the terrain. The crops are disappearing along the roadside being by more homes, and the fields have cows and horses. The residential pet dogs set their alarm well before I get within striking distance, allowing me time to evaluate both their demeanor and their ability to maneuver from their place of comfort. Fortunately, all were just ‘bark’, running to the property line to let me know not to disturb the occupants, including them. With a human gesture I signaled to them with a ‘Good Morning’ never taking my eyes off of them until I was at a good distance. Being safe from the unpredictable. Maybe I should not be so wary, but along the route I observed many remnants of road kill: Carcasses of deer, bobcat, turtles, rabbits, armadillos, possums, skunks, porkqupines, squirls, and bullfrogs -- all victims while trying to get across Highway 40. Birds of various beautiful colors were flying freely in all this open space. They too were losing the battle in some cases while darting in front of the passing cars. This is all so different than Arizona and New Mexico. The road sides are not littered with bottles, cans and trash debris. Instead, there are wide open grass areas which are mowed to look very much a part of the land beyond.

As the day continued to heat up all wildlife seemed to disappear, and the only things out were people in air conditioned cars and me -- absorbing everything the sun could dish out. I finally arrived into Shamrock where I was able to cool off in the pool leaving enough energy to eat and crawl into bed after catching up on the journal. Now, your short daily history lesson.

SHAMROCK

Shamrock was first established in 1910, and when it was a booming oil town had as many as 10,000 people. It started out as a farming community, and the town was named for the first postmaster J.M. Thomas, whose hometown was Shamrock, Illinois. By 1913 the town had two general stores, a restaurant and a population of 35. This changed dramatically when the Cushing Oil Field began to develop two years later, and Shamrock became a boom town almost overnight. The town took on a definitively Irish character with its main street named Tipperary Road, and other streets by the name of Cork, Dublin, Ireland, St. Patrick and Kilarney. The townsfolk painted the buildings green and the town had its own Blarney Stone. The newspaper was even called the Shamrock Brogue.

It turned out that the Cushing Oil Field became one of the biggest discoveries in the early 1900s by producing over 30,000 barrels of oil per day by 1915. During Shamrock’s boom the town was very rowdy with several gambling halls, saloons, brothels and individuals on the tough side. Unfortunately, Shamrock began to decline in the mid-1920s as the oil field workers started to move on to new boomtowns, and in a short while the businesses began to close. By 1930 the population had decreased to about 700. Even though the Cushing Oil Field produced a significant amount of oil, its production had become mostly automated and the number of men to work the field was no longer needed. Shamrock today still has a population of about 100, and its buildings are in decay for the most part. Nevertheless, the town still holds its annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade in keeping with its Irish tradition.

Good night.

Tomorrow Elk City

Take care

Luv ya all

Old Young Man Revived But Tired

Day 19 - Amarillo to Groom, Texas

Day 19

6-18-10

Amarillo to Groom, Texas 37miles.

Hello everyone, I hope you have enjoyed my last journal as much as I did by living it. It was truly a lifetime experience. We left Dixon yesterday a little late, but that was due on my part for not being in a hurry to leave this little place of heaven. I decided to take Rudy up on his offer to drive me through the rest of New Mexico. Concerns of long rides with no services were an issue, and I had just had my last massage with Ms. Romero, who in her efforts had succeeded for the most part in resetting some very tight tendons and muscles. The numbness and pain in my left arm were diminishing, and after so much dedicated work I did not want to undo it. She wanted me to stay for a couple more sessions seeing the improvement of my shoulder’s mobility and reduced swelling. She could only say that she understood my need to continue with my venture, and recommended that I take it easy at least for a day before continuing. Ms. Romero, thank you very much for all of your professional knowledge and the wonderful conversations we had of life, the people of New Mexico and, most of all, your sincerity in unifying the balance in my body. I will be back to complete the portion of the ride from Santa Fe to Amarillo when the weather is cooler and a much needed massage after the completion of this venture. A very good reason for me to return to New Mexico. I left my tent, sleeping bag, some camping gear and clothing behind that I determined I would not need after deciding less weight would relieve the strain I was placing on the left arm and shoulder. I have to say that there was a feeling of insecurity with the absence of the tent and sleeping bag, but the bike ride, even as short as it was, was very pleasant and without pain. The front of the bike was no longer a struggle and the balance was in line with every stroke of the pedal. I am happy. Now onto some history.

AMARILLO

In April of 1887, J. T. Berry established the site for the town along the Fort Worth and Denver City Railroad, which was being constructed across the Panhandle. In 1887 the town won the county seat and it soon became a fast growing cattle marketing center. The original name of the settlement was Oneida, but later the named was changed to Amarillo, which means yellow in Spanish. This is probably because of the yellow wildflowers growing nearby in spring and summer, and also the yellow soil along the shores of the Amarillo Lake and Amarillo Creek. It also bears the nickname of the “Yellow Rose of Texas.”

In 1988, Henry B. Sanborn, also known as the “Father of Amarillo” and his partner Joseph F. Glidden began buying land to the east so as to move to Amarillo, both are given credit for many of the businesses having moved into this area. By the late 1890s Amarillo became one of the busiest cattle shipping points with the population growing along with it. The city became the center for elevator, milling and feed manufacturing after an increase in wheat and grain production during the early 1900s. The discovery of gas and oil in 1918 brought oil and gas companies to the Amarillo area. In 1927 the US Government bought the Cliffside Gas Field with its high helium content and the Federal Bureau of Mines began operating the Amarillo Helium Plant, reportedly the largest in the world. The Fort Worth, Denver City Railroad, the Atchison, Topeka, Santa Fe Railway , Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad established services to and from Amarillo. They all maintained freight and passenger depots and repair facilities during the 20^th century and were major employers for the community.

Amarillo was hit by the Dust Bowl and went into an economic depression. During the period of nine years from 1929 to 1938, the rainfall was significantly lower than it ever had been. History tells that the Panhandle suffered over 192 dust storms over a three year period, the worst one being on March 3, 1933. To many in Amarillo that day appeared to be the end of the world. Amarillo’s recovery began with Routes 60, 87, 287 and 66 all of which merged in the town succeeding in making it a major tourist attraction.

The day started out by my getting up late due to the loss of one hour that occurred when we entered Texas yesterday. I left at seven thirty this morning and arrived into Groom around one o’clock. The weather was warm and the wind was blowing southeast. Everything between Amarillo and Groom is crop land growing grains of wheat, millet, corn and there are also some cotton fields. The wheat is being harvested now with corn stalks standing around four and a half feet height and millet just pushing through the ground. Cotton will be next in line for planting. I left with the intention of having breakfast in Conway, fifteen miles east of Amarillo. Much to my surprise, Conway only had one great big grain silo, a very old closed gas station, and a few residential homes of those not willing to leave. So I ate my power bars, drank my fluids and road my bike while admiring and thinking about this land without mountains. It is vast with no obstruction of any kind and the road I was riding on was the original old Route 66, also used as the frontage road for all the farm equipment being driven from crop to crop. Fortunately, I did not have to compete for space as there was very little use on this day.

CONWAY

Conway is a town along the Choctaw Route of the Chicago, Rock Island and the Gulf Railway, which was actually established before the railroad came through. In 1892 the town itself was named after a county commissioner by the name of H.B. Conway. Also, in 1892 the Lone Star School was created for the children of the ranchers, and it was said to be the first in the Texas Panhandle region.

The first post office was established in 1896 with Wade Allison as the first postmaster, remaining in business for 18 years before it was taken out of service in 1914. The early businesses were a general store operated by E.B. Allison and a gin mill run by R.L. Price. The only thing left of the trading post by 1936 was a little church located about half a mile from the village, and schoolhouse that was attached to it.

In 1967 the Crutchfield family opened a roadside shop and gas station in Conway. Conway was at the height of its population and by 1969 it had 175 residents. However, by 1970 it had decreased to a population of 50, had two grain elevators, four gas stations, three cafes and a general store. The post office was closed in 1976. In 2002 a Loves Truck Stop/Country Store was created on the interstate.

In 2002 one of the local attractions was the Bug Ranch. Crutchfield, the creator and owner, was inspired by the Cadillac Ranch roadside attraction and he bought five VW Beetles. He then created his own artistic version of the Cadillac Ranch, which is west of Amarillo. Unfortunately, it did not generate enough business and it closed in 2003. The Bug Ranch has been mentioned in the Route 66 Pulse, and to this day visitors use paint and markers to decorate the Beetles.

Moving along minding my own business I notice a small brown patch move right in line of my front bike tire. I avoid thankfully, stopped, dismounted and walked back. To my surprise it was a horn toad lizard. I have not seen one of these in their own environment since I was a kid catching them with my brother Pete and keeping them as pets in cardboard boxes. This one on all four stood up and said “Ha, I almost got you”. It was a very good memory. I thanked Mr. Horned Toad, took a couple pictures and stood there till he turned and disappeared into the tall grass.

Next I arrived into the city limits of Groom expecting the same outcome as Conway. I stopped to take a picture of the welcome sign, which had a city limit sign next to it that read ‘Population 546.’ So, as you can guess, I felt somewhat deflated and very hungry. Once again, the stroke of luck fell upon me with a convenience store, which actually looked closed until I placed my face up against the window pane and saw some movement. My heart rate decreased in its frantic state of palpitations to a steady rate of beat, which cleared my head enough to open the door of the store and found life. She, the clerk and only one in the store, informed me that there was, in fact, a restaurant two blocks east of the store. I thanked her very much and left knowing I was going to live. I mean eat. Which brings me to where I am -- writing this journal. I rode the two blocks and found a comfortable little restaurant called “The Grill.” It is located on 407 E. Front St., Groom, Texas, 79039. Fortunately, it is the only one in this little town, and its menu is simple with everything freshly home made. I was greeted by a very happy young girl named Corey, age twelve. She seated me with a menu and very politely asked “What would you like to drink?” After answering ‘water and coffee’ she replied thank you, turned and before I could settle in my chair, returned with items in hand saying, “Your waiter will be with you in a moment.” The service was exceptionally good and everyone so very pleasant. The food was great and it was fresh. I recommend this restaurant as a must stop and to be sure to ask for Corey, the smiling young waitress. While having my lunch many of the local ranchers stopped in for theirs and conversation filled the room. They spoke of their lives, work ethics of this community of Groom, and how they fulfill their commitment to the country in growing and harvesting the grain crops that we use daily. It was also very nice to see the community residents gather to eat and share in conversation about daily activities. It was very obvious that everyone knew each other with simple “How do you do’s” or questions of family members whereabouts and health.

While writing this journal a young woman entered the restaurant area with her young three year old son, having just come out of the kitchen. The woman gave her son a directive, and took him by the arms and firmly placed him at the table. She stated to him, “If you don’t behave, we will have to leave.” Her son replied with a defiant “NO!” and immediately got up from the table and headed for the exit with his mother right behind. Sitting right in front of me was a couple waiting for their meal, and they asked for the owner to come to the table. The owner, Karen Brown, did so. The woman at the table proceeded to ask Mrs. Brown if she believed the incident that had just occurred between mother and son was child abuse. Mrs. Brown indicated that she did not see the incident and that the parties involved were family. As it turned out, the mother was Mrs. Brown’s daughter and the boy her grandson. At this, the woman and man got up, and asked, “How much do we owe?” The woman stated to Mrs. Brown that she intended to report the incident as child abuse. After the couple left, I called for Mrs. Brown to come over to the table so I could speak to her. I indicated to her that I did not witness anything that I believed to be reportable as child abuse, and that if needed I would be willing to write a statement to that effect. She thanked me very much, and then asked me what it was that I was doing. After explaining to her, she then called over the other workers and a great conversation ensued. The general consensus in the restaurant was that there was no child abuse that had occurred. Families here know each other by first name, and that includes all the youngsters. Their relationships are very personal and they demonstrate a caring for each other’s well being.

This small community is so unlike the larger community where the interpersonal communication seems to have been lost. I attribute this to the population growth and the abundance of handheld devices and technological advances, which were actually intended to better our lives. Lost in that process is the knowledge that is passed on from the elders to the younger generation from which the community benefits as a whole. In other words, responsibility for each other. This is a village. I left the restaurant in the same good spirits I entered with. I walked into the Grill Restaurant as a hungry outsider, was fed and, through the process of communication, left as one of the villagers.

After returning to the hotel, I noticed a convenience store and a Dairy Queen. The urge for ice cream overtook me, and I decided to head out of the motel to the DQ after showering. I no sooner closed my door behind me when it began to rain. At first it was a light rainfall, but this was immediately followed by heavier rain and then hail. The hail began as peewee-sized marbles and soon developed into the size of 50 cent pieces. This whole spectacle was topped off by lightening and lasted about 30 minutes. I watched in amazement, and was even able to take some pictures. It was comical to watch the cars weaving in and out of traffic in their attempts to dodge the pellets of hail. They scrambled to park under or next to buildings away from the wind that was driving the falling hail. I waited out the unexpected storm and made a mad dash during one of the short breaks to the DQ where I did get my ice cream -- a banana split!

While eating my banana split, I noticed a young group of teenagers sitting nearby. They appeared to be having a great deal of fun with each other, and looked as if they were high school age. It turned out several had recently graduated. I wondered why they were gathering here, and then thought it over and decided, what else is there to do in Groom? I asked them if they were aware of any services between Groom and Shamrock. They politely replied and gave me as much information as they could. One of the young men by the name of Justin asked, “Sir, can you tell me why you are riding your bike so far?” I, in return, replied, “Yep, just fulfilling a dream!” I then said to them, “Young’uns, listen here, and listen up good. After you graduate and go to college, each one of you needs to consider doing something like this or something that you have always wanted do.” I shared with them my retirement and dreams of one day riding across the USA and meeting all the different people in the states, people just like them. I again encouraged them to take time to follow their dreams before they started their lives. They looked at me in confusion and replied, “But we have to get jobs!” I then said, “You get a job and before you know it you will be old like me and wish you had done this while you were young. There is plenty of time to gain all the things you believe you need in order to be a success. Maybe, if you are fortunate enough, you will fulfill your dreams as I am doing now. There are many times I wish I had done these things when I was younger. Physically speaking it would have been much easier.” While I was leaving, each one of them politely said, “Thank you sir!” While walking away I was happy to have experienced the youth of Groom. I thought about the wonderful life they have today and the many conflicts they will face tomorrow. If what I experienced in the restaurant holds true, they will have many resources to assist them in making the right decisions for a good life and a continuation of a living community.

GROOM

The town was named for Colonel B.B. Groom in 1902, an Englishman who imported shorthorn and Angus cattle. Colonel Groom originally had a huge estate in Kentucky, but lost most of his fortune and, after becoming a widower, was hired to be the general manager for the Francklyn Land and Cattle Company in Groom. He was the first manager to hire well drillers to provide water for the ranchers’ cattle, but because of his enthusiasm in obtaining land for the Francklyn Company, this company went bankrupt also. After this, Groom and his son Harry became the managers for the Mortimer Land Company, and the leased land was known in the area for years as the “Groom Pasture.” Colonel Groom entertained guests at this well-kept ranch until the owner of the land, the White Deer Lands Company, refused to renew the lease. Harry left for El Paso where he became president of the American Livestock Association, and Colonel Groom went back to England where he died.

In 1902 the town was originally planned to be on the Chicago, Rock Island and Gulf Railway and a store and post office were established that year. By 1906, the town was thriving with a bank, hotel, lumberyard, school, barber and several stores. Groom suffered one fire in 1912 and another in 1915.

In Groom there is a 19-story cross that is next to I-40, Old Route 66, which can be seen from 20 miles away. At the base of the cross are life-sized statues of the Stations of the Cross. This cross was the inspiration for a similar one that was constructed in Effingham, Illinois, but that one is eight feet taller.

Also, in Groom there is a leaning water tower, which currently only serves as a tourist attraction. It was originally a functioning tower which was slated for demolition until a man by the name of Ralph Britten bought it and moved it to serve as a sign for his truck stop and for tourist information. Unfortunately, the truck stop is no longer open, but it can still be seen off the highway of Old Route 66. At Christmas time the town of Groom places a large colored star on the top which can be seen for miles. It’s a little weathered but still there.

Well there you have it, one more day of glorious life at least through my eyes it is.

Tomorrow Groom to Shamrock

Lv Ya all n Take care

Old man Feeling the country