California to Flagstaff

Via Route 66

It’s easy to forget what a big country the USA is – and nothing makes you remember like a coast to coast road trip. When Jack writes about the rolling hills and the magnificent vistas and when you get in to the high desert and see the billions of stars above your head you remember the clear air and your head clears as well. And when you meet people from different towns who are much different from you and find them friendly and helpful and joyful – well, it makes you glad to be alive!

We left Monterey, CA on Wednesday 9/15 late in the afternoon and made our way south on Highway 101. It was an exciting moment for us. The day of our departure had finally arrived. We’d thrown this entire idea together of a Beat Museum/John and Jerry coast to coast tour in less than a month and went out on a wing and a prayer in the hopes that the few gigs we had put in place would start to multiply rapidly as people learned what we were doing. At first we were a little disappointed more colleges did not sign up immediately, despite the fact we had gotten dozens of inquiries, but Garland reminded us that most colleges put their semester plans and budgets in place the year before and the bureaucracies the schools need to deal with are slow moving.

So! We committed to the two and a half-month road trip anyway. Packed up all the musical instruments and laptops and projectors we’d need for our gigs and decided to trust it’d all come together the way we wanted. And now we’re finding that it is!

At Paso Robles, a few hours south of Monterey, we pulled off the highway to get gas and found a huge biker event taking place at a roadside bar and restaurant. There must have been a hundred Harleys parked outside and biker dudes and biker chicks – it was one big party!

The Airstream and trailer drew a lot of looks as we drove by and as we parked we saw a half dozen semi’s pulled off in a little hidden area. We quickly deduced this was a safe place to park on the street over night as it was an unofficial truck stop.

We made our way to the biker bar – neither John nor I was aware the other had spent zero time hanging out with bikers in the past – this place just seemed to have a gravitational pull and as we wandered around making people’s acquaintances we found the natives were friendly. We met a bunch of guys wearing leather jackets that said “Moloch” on it. When I asked what it meant they said it was simply the name of their club. I said, “Did you know there was a poet named Allen Ginsberg who used that word as a theme in one of his famous poems?” one of the biggest burliest guys in the group approached and said, “Yeah, well Ginsberg got the word from HG Wells and the “Time Machine”. “Really?” I said, impressed by his biceps as well as his knowledge, “Do you know that for sure or are you just guessing?” “I never guess,” he said with a stone face. “One of the things I learned in the Marines, never guess”.

So Joe was one of the friendliest guys I’ve ever met and at first all I could think about was Ginsy’s saintly motorcyclists screaming with joy. Joe didn’t seem to be the type who’d be screaming with joy, however.

And then there was the band, a group calling themselves the Pipe Dreams. These guys were terrific and could really rock a tune – John had a great time with them, knowing every lick they were playing. I’m discovering John’s a much better musician than I’d expected. I’d thought he just pokes around a little bit, but he really knows his stuff – theory as well as execution.

Pipe Dream

Pipe Dream

The next day was a quick drive into Barstow – we stopped at a campground in Daggett run by a husband and wife team named Tom & Katy – Tom ran the RV Park and Katy ran the bar/restaurant. Best deal in the world – a big mug of draft beer for a buck and a half - we told Katy we were thinking of moving in for the cheap beer. John and I played some pool at the 50 cent per game pool table – John never won a game! – of course I sank the eight ball four games in a row after winning the first game so John was forced to admit I controlled the table by winning one and then losing four in a row – John didn’t even need to be there, I might as well have been playing by myself!

Passing through Needles on 40, which parallels Route 66 we found both the most expensive gas and the cheapest gas of our drive so far – all within a few miles of each other. Our biker friends from Paso Robles warned us not to buy gas in Needles – “Keep going a few miles into Arizona – you’ll save a buck a gallon” – we found that hard to believe but sure enough gas in Needles was $2.79 a gallon for regular and five miles over the Arizona state line we found a Pilot station where the gas was $1.83. Not quite a buck a gallon but pretty close.

It was at this same Pilot station a guy comes walking up to us and says, “You guys are the Kerouac film makers right?” We said, “No, we’re on tour with the Beat Museum” and he said, “But didn’t I meet you two in Burbank at a film festival a few months ago?” and sure enough he did – the guy’s name was Tony Potter and he’s with Shakespeare At Play in Burbank and we used his facilities one day when down there for the premier of Beat Angel. We had a good laugh about bumping into each other at a gas station at the California/Arizona border and then realizing we were just a few miles away from Lake Havasu and “London Bridge” John and I decided to detour south and stay the night – found a great State Park camp site for $14 and went and saw London Bridge at night time – John emailed a photo to his mom Carolyn who lives in England so she can see their bridge is doing fine in the Arizona desert.

London Bridge at Night

at Lake Havasu, Az

The next day on the way to Flagstaff we stopped off in the little town of Williams that has made the old Route 66 the mainstay of their economy – everything was Route 66 – the motels, the gas stations, the coffeehouses – everything had a story relating to Route 66 – even a Museum. I spoke with the guy that started the Museum – two Museum owners talking business, you understand. While in Williams we bought some cowboy hats seein’ we wuz in Cowboy country. All the locals hooted and hollared at us as we drove out of town.

In Front of Route 66 Motel

Route 66 Museum Owner.

We made good use of the cowboy hats that night at a huge RV Park in Flagstaff called Black Barts. This is like a theme RV Park where they have a dinner theatre type review with college students splitting their time between being your waiter and singing show tunes up on stage. And ever-body talks like this, ya varmit – “ya git yer hash browns and ya git yer beans and if yer steak ain’t cooked good enough Ole Bart’ll wrastle down the chef and cook it up his own self” – fun place with a real swinging door saloon and on a lark I flashed a shot into a mirror at the bar and came out with a Pulitzer Prize winning photo of John ‘Reflecting in Flagstaff’.

Swinging Doors at Black Barts.

Look at Those Hats!

 

 

The next day – on to Albuquerque where we stole a few minutes away to stop in at the Route 66 Casino. We had driven by it on our way in to town and that’s where we got a scare as three police cars all of a sudden appeared out of nowhere speeding against traffic in the fast lane right toward us lights-a-flashin’ – it’s pretty spooky seeing three cop cars coming right at you on an interstate and needing to veer off to the right shoulder to let them get by – they were trying to get to an accident that had the other side of the road blocked up for miles.

So later that night at the Route 66 Casino we played a little craps and looked at a mural they had up on the walls that traced the history of Route 66. It’s a shame they don’t let you take cameras in to casinos as John found a spot where they had a pretty poor rendition of Jack and Neal gassing up an old Woodie - Neal looking under the hood and Jack at the gas pump. John and I talked briefly about how we remembered seeing a letter or something where Jack briefly considered suing the producers of the original Route 66 TV show for using his idea from On The Road, but never did so.

The next day we left Albuquerque and Route 66 and made a left at Interstate 25 and climbed that big hill on our way to Colorado Springs and then on to Neal’s Denver.

 

 

 

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