Not Really New, Not Really Mexico
Jack Rittenhouse’s Guide Book to Highway 66, written in 1946, says this about New Mexico: “a state rich with history. For the most part, US 66 through New Mexico is not as wide or well paved as in Texas. Until recently it has been deeply pitted in many places.” Our experiences while living in the state during the late 1980s were not much different from what Rittenhouse described. I joked that the speed limit signs were unnecessary because at any speed over about 45 any car would be shaken to bits on the washboardy roadways. The highway has improved since then, but we were somewhat surprised to see that a substantial amount of highway dollars had been spent on elaborate, even artistic overpasses celebrating Route 66, which in most of those places had been completely paved over by I-40. Nevertheless, there were some spots well worth the time spent, and the first of them was in Santa Rosa.
We had not planned to stop in town because we had plenty of gas and wanted to get past Albuquerque before too much of the day got away. But when NOS saw the sign for the Route 66 Museum and Car Exhibit, it was too good to pass up. This is what we came for, says he, to stop whenever we see something that looks cool. So we took the next exit and pulled into the parking lot across the street from Bozo’s Garage.
That name is significant, but it’s not what you think. Bozo is the owner of the garage and the museum. He has a history with Route 66 and knows many muscle car legends, so the auto exhibit is one of the finest smaller ones we have seen, with a good mix of classics, lead sleds and assorted custom jobs that delighted us at every turn. The 66 signs and other memorabilia are a bit disorganized but the stuff is so cool it doesn’t matter. And they had a well-stocked gift shop that caused me to wear down the numbers on my plastic money. It’s a family run concern as so many of the best places on the Road are; the inside is bright and airy and it took us at least 90 minutes to browse the exhibits.
Fully sated with Car Guy stuff, we set out on the highway again to make our way toward Winslow, that night’s destination. Clouds were hanging low across the Sandias and as we approached them the altitude made the air a bit too cool for comfort even in those last days of summer. Lightning stabbed the plains after we passed Clines Corners, then Moriarty, before dropping into spectacular Tijeras Canyon for the descent toward the Rio Grande valley. I reminisced about a trip in 1978 where my traveling companion pulled out a harmonica and played “How Great Thou Art” while the sun was setting and lightning fell like the fire of God from the cloud cells over the western valley. NOS said, you gotta get the video camera and get all this - it’s awesome. And so it was.
