Amarillo, TX -> Oklahoma City, OK
Somehow waking up after all that absinthe was not very hard. As I left Amarillo I began to reflect on it (the city, not the booze). What is Amarillo? To an extent it seems like the peak of a Route 66 town. Everything for the traveler. Comfortable, good food, inoffensive. These are not bad things, but there is more to a city than being inoffensive. The magic thing about Amarillo is that it is bad to nobody, but it is not great for me. To each their own, we live in a big country and there is plenty of room for things I do not particularly care for.
On my way out, I had breakfast at a biker bar. I thought this was a good idea because it would be easy for me to watch my bike while I ate. This is vital if, like me, you've stashed your most vital belongings in a set of soft saddlebags that don't even need to be cut open with a knife. To the thieves reading this: please just unzip the bags to get to my laptop. If you cut them open I will not have a safe place for my clean underwear. This was a scary biker bar. The seasoned motorcyclist can quickly size up what kind of establishment he has just strolled into. The smart one can stroll out just as quickly. I noticed that the waitress' seven year old son was able to identify crotch rockets (his words not mine) from the patio. I saw the decor which for some reason just seemed 'off.' I saw that people were wearing cuts, and not friendly ones. I ate. I paid. I left. That was no place for a Guzzisti decked out in adventure gear. Even my helmet was out of place.
I cruised through downtown Amarillo to see if there was something I was missing. I didn't find it so I pressed on.
A funny thing happened, as soon as I crossed the border into Oklahoma I started to see all of the amarillo wildflowers that I had been missing. The rain in the area had brought beautiful greens into what was yellow and brown in Texas. Strange how state lines will do a thing like that. Something else started to happen, the personality began to creep back into the land. The chain stores and stroads melted away into places with their own identity. I stopped seeing billboards intent on attracting me to the world's biggest something or other. A sea of places that did not exist for the sake of the passers-by, but for the residents.
While at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere (where else do they put them) I saw a pair of electric cars charging. This is totally normal where I'm from but I had seen very few EVs on the road since leaving California. One group was a pair of friends who were taking a Kona electric to just south of Oklahoma city to visit a friend. "He's a guy I haven't seen in 20 year but we're tight." They had started in Ventura, not far from where I began. The other car was something unusual. It was a preproduction ID4 on a cross-country run with a Volkswagen employee and a contracted tester. Neat stuff for an enthusiast.
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| Okie political advocacy |
Oklahoma City greeted me in a special sort of way. I had been nervously checking the weather all day. It was not going to be bone dry but it appeared safe to ride without my rain gear. This was true, until it wasn't. I was a quarter mile from my Airbnb when it started to pour on me while at a red light. A man in a van next to me gave me a look of pain, I shrugged. What could I do.
I got to the Airbnb, ditched my things and went for a walk to a bus stop. I had some exploring to do and I was intent on not taking the bike. On my way to the bus I saw a prostitute get out of her pimp's car, said pimp get out to scream at her while she pretended like nothing was happening, and the driver scooping them both up. OKC. Okay City. The bus took me downtown where I began to fall in love. This is the first place I have been to on this trip where I feel as if I could fly in and vacation without a car. It is beautiful, historic, and interesting. There is good food, good beer, and pretty ladies. What more could a 24 year old want (hint: it's a job someone please hand me a job). Oklahoma city is mighty pretty, as they say. I will see you again.
While I was here, I met some gents in a tiki bar in a part of the city called Bricktown. Shout out to them. To the dude in the middle who's name escapes me; go buy that bike. If you do you'll be able to take blurry photos of strangers. You'll love it.
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| I keep thinking I can trust my camera to set depth of field, I cannot. |
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