Day 4, July 6: Oklahoma City to Albuquerque

The trip's macabre theme continued with a visit to the Oklahoma City National Memorial. It's a striking memorial -- a shallow reflecting pool next to a field of empty chairs representing each of the victims. We actually went into the museum this time, and it was worthwhile.

Oh, and before that we hit our first Waffle House. Mmm, Waffle House ...

This was the longest driving day yet, but mostly because we mellowed out a little and stopped more than usual. Still in Oklahoma, we hit a Cherokee "trading post" (souvenir shop)in Clinton and the National Route 66 Museum in Elk City, which was nice enough but not very substantial or educational.

Then the Texas Panhandle. The lunch goal was Amarillo's Big Texan Steakhouse, home of the "free" 72-ounce steak. (You finish it, and all the side dishes, in an hour or less and it's free.) We didn't attempt that, but we did have a couple of monster chicken-fried steaks. Bill finished his; Jacqueline barely made a dent -- leaving room for strawberry shortcake. You'd expect such a gimmicky tourist trap to be subpar, but the food and the service were first-rate. It's a cavernous dining hall, reminiscent of the Hofbrauhaus in Munich. The attached souvenir shop is also excellent.

A couple of dozen miles before the New Mexico border, the terrain changed. Grass gave way to sagebrush and, presto, we were truly in the Southwest.

We were just now realizing that this was the 25th anniversary of a similar drive made by Bill and his family in their move from Detroit to Phoenix. In 1979, Tucumcari, N.M., struck Bill as the most godforsaken place on earth -- and only partly because of that horrible meal at the Tastee-Freez. Today, even with a new appreciation of all things old, it's still pretty crappy. We got off the interstate and drove through on the old Route 66. Lots of wonderful old signs, but most of them in a state of disrepair and in front of abandoned businesses. If somebody somehow did for Tucumcari what they did for South Beach, the town could be a living museum.

The leg to Albuquerque seemed to take forever, with the generous 75-mph speed limit alternating with bogus construction zones that threatened quadrupled fines or some such if you exceeded 54 1/2. We saw maybe one cop in all of Texas and New Mexico, though.

Our stop for the night, La Posada de Albuquerque, is a well-preserved 1930s hotel downtown. The lobby was impressive but empty. The desk never got our Orbitz reservation, but they found us a room -- a huge one, with two beds (they said queen, we saw double) and room for a sitting area. We've seen New York City apartments smaller than this.

After checking in, we hit the computer (dial-up connection, alas) to figure out just which Mexican place to hit. We found a bunch and called a bunch -- but it was after 9 p.m. (and that's with the change from Central to Mountain time) and they all closed at 8. Eight? Eight. Unreal.

Roadfood.com saved the day with its listing of the Frontier, a 24-hour hangout near the University of New Mexico campus. Quite an impressive place, but no beer. So we got carryout and, with some difficulty, found a six-pack, and we ate on the coffee table in our huge hotel room.