Bedding down on Route 66
Albuquerque's Old Town
For our last night on the road, what could be more fitting than a final fling with Route 66? We were flying out of Albuquerque bright and early so needed to bed down somewhere near the airport. That somewhere turned out to be what felt like an authentic Route 66 motel, in Albuquerque's Nob Hill suburb, just 10 minute from the city's "Sunport" airport. Authentic in that our room was seemingly untouched from the Mother Road's heyday in the Thirties. But hey, that just added to the roadtrip experience, right?
Grim motel rooms aside, I was glad to check out Albuquerque as there's apparently a vague chance my cousin Nat might wind up there somewhere down the line (something about her Venezuelan boyfriend doing a post-Doc in NM). I can report back that as US cities go, it's certainly an interesting one. It has more than its share of history: the Old Town's aptly-named plaza dates back to the early 1800s. And we liked Nob Hill. It's within spitting distance of the university so plenty of fun shops and restaurants line the sides of Route 66, which slices straight through its centre.
All that motoring history makes the city something of a draw for motorheads: we saw plenty of classic cars and "hogs" roar past while we scoffed a final green chile at the Flying Star cafe. It's a shame we weren't there for Saturday night, which is when everyone with wheels (i.e. everyone in the States) cruises the neon-lit strip in the manner of a Fifties' flick. I somehow doubt that our SUV would have passed muster. Maybe Louis could have pulled it off in his Bugaboo if we'd rigged some lights up to his wheels. Next time perhaps.
Come to think of it, we might have missed a trick with our entire roadtrip. Has anyone ever cruised the Mother Road in a stroller? Now there's a book in the making. Plus then we'd find out if the Bugaboo was really worth its price tag. If I wind up being made redundant after all maybe that's what Louis and I can do with my payoff.