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Published: April 9th 2007
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Route 66
The small towns along US281 were unusual to say the least If anyone's considering driving from San Francisco to Miami by themselves, I have one piece of advice...don't - it's mind numbingly tedious and there's a liklihood that you could slip quietly into insanity without really noticing.
After a great Snow Patrol gig in Dallas I decided to head north on the backroads towards a place called Clinton in Oklahoma, which is another no-mark town of little interest to anyone other than Route 66 fans, as it houses the Route 66 museum. I nipped into the museum for a few minutes, which was fairly interesting and then repaired to a traditional R66 motel. Traditional of course means cheap hovel, but after another five hours of mind numbing boredom behind the wheel it would do fine.
I had driven through some of Oklahoma state's small dwellings on the way to the 66 and many of them looked like they hadn't seen or indeed wished to see any "outsiders" for years and as I had no wish to end my days buried in someones's farm land by a toothless lunatic, I swept through as quickly as possible.
The plan was to drive the 66 through Oklahoma to Tulsa, as that
Elvis
Deceased part of the old mother road is the most complete. The 66 has been decommisioned for years and to follow it you have to weave your way around the interstate down some old frontage roads and through deserted towns. It's very complicated to stay on the route succesfully, as in keeping with the rest of the country, the signposts are scarce and tiny. I stopped off briefly in Oklahoma City to have a quick look at the impressive memorial to the victims of the 1995 terrorist bomb and then went back on the 66 to Tulsa.
Exhausted from the relentless driving, I had a couple of days in very quiet Tulsa and set off for Memphis via Muskogee (purely because it was mentioned in the movie An Officer and a Gentleman) and Little Rock, Arkansas (purely because it gets a few mentions in a Seinfeld), where I thought I might find a city of some vague interest and of walking accessability. I wasn't wholly correct, but the Civil Rights Museum built inside the Lorraine Hotel where Martin Luther King was killed was really interesting. You can stand just feet from where the incident occurred and his hotel room has
been kept the same as it was all those years ago. Sun Studio, where such notable musicians as Johnny Cash, Elvis and U2 all recorded hit records was entertaining and I ended the day by sinking a few well earned beers at BB King's Blues Club on the famous Beale Street strip. I popped in to Graceland to have a look at Elvis' place, which is a bit of a rip-off at $25 and not particularly enthralling if you're not a fan and then set off again south towards New Orleans, the drop off point for the tiring Saturn Ion.
I'll gloss over the states of Mississippi and Louisiana, as there's nothing of even vague interest to speak of and move on to New Orleans, where I arrived a good few days early to meet Myra and I soon wished that I hadn't bothered. It's awful and my hostel (The Marquette House is a shocker) I stuck it out for three days, which is way too long and got a flight to Chicago instead to spend three days there. I really enjoyed my three days in Chicago, where there's lots to see and do; the complete opposite of New
Orleans. There are galleries, museums, sports, shopping and sightseeing to be done (not to mention great bars and restaurants) and I fitted as much in as I could before I had to return to New Orleans to meet Myra.
He was about as impressed with the place as I was and we left after one night in another crap hostel. At least there wasn't a Mexican murderer staying in my dorm in this one, as there was at the Marquette House, but it was dirty and shoddy and the staff were very unhelpful. So, I hired another car and began the drive to Miami, the final thousand miles or so of my coast to coast stint. Myra didn't fancy the US driving, so I was back behind the wheel.
Having returned the Ion, we transferred to the gas-guzzling Cobalt SS, a black sports that boasted an impressive 26 miles per gallon! Our destination was Miami and stops along the way included such fascinating places as Pensacola, Gainsville, Kissimmee, Tampa and Homestead and Myra soon became familiar with the drudgery of US interstate driving and the challenge of finding a radio station that doesn't play total tat interspersed with
Sun Studio 1
The recording studio at Sun incredibly annoying ads or religous nonsense.
Our first stop of any note was Orlando, famous for Disneyworld (which we didn't visit) and Seaworld (also not visited). Instead we visited the world's emptiest nightclub and randomly got drunk with Sid, a truck driver from Georgia and Louie (no idea who he was) in the saloon next to our motel. We did venture down to an entertainment type complex near Universal Studios in an attempt to find some nightlife, but sadly the club that we entered had about six people in it, including us.
Time was getting on and we still had to visit the Kennedy Space Centre near Cape Canaveral, so we drove out there en route to Tampa - home of the famous Tampa Bay Rowdies football team of the 1970's and little else. We spent one night in Tampa at a casino and quickly moved on. It's not the most scenic of places, but the nearby beaches of St Petersburg are a worth a visit.
We had two days to drive down to the Everglades National Park, explore it and then drive to Miami, so I put my boot down in the Cobalt and one very
long drive later we arrived in Florida City, which was to be our base for two nights for it's close proximity to the park. There's nothing to say about Florida City or it's neighbour Homestead really, but the National Park was definitely a highlight of my travels. The park has wooden boardwalks where you can wander up as close as you dare to the alligators and other wildlife. You're guaranteed to see dozens of gators in their natural habitat and if you're really fortunate you might spot a Florida Panther. I don't think that Myra was fully acclimatised to the conditions however, as I noticed him slouching off at a top speed of 2mph toward the air conditioned visitor information centre.
As the sunlight faded, I spotted a casino nearby and we headed there to try our luck. Myra lost at poker and somehow I managed to win $400 in a slot machine. I've no idea how I did it, but it was a welcome bonus as we prepared for Miami the next day.
Following a short drive in the wrong direction, we arrived at Miami airport to drop off the Cobalt and my coast to coast drive
was complete. No speeding fines, no rta's and no dents in either of the cars, which has to be a new record. Finally free of the tedium of driving, we cabbed it into town for the delightful surroundings of the Tropics Hotel, South Beach. Great location is all I will say about the place.
We had five days in South Beach, which were spent playing golf (I lost again after carding two tens and a twelve!), drinking in Myra's favourite bar in the world - The Clevelander - and generally not doing a great deal. Relaxation was the name of the game (apart from the tantrum inducing golf of course) and I think I deserved a break after a ridiculously long time on America's highways.
We met some interesting folks in South Beach, some complete lunatics too and experienced varied nightlife and hit and miss food for five days before Myra headed back to England with a sizable hangover after quaffing a fair amount of Jack Daniels. As for me, I flew to New York via Nashville eventually. The pilot decided to return us to the gate from the runway when he realised that there was no radio
The Marquette House Hostel
New Orleans finest accommodation on board that was in working order. So after an hour and a half's delay I set off for two weeks in NY, where I'd arranged to sublet someone's apartment for the duration.
As I write, it's absolutely hammering it down in Manhattan and I only have ten days left before I have to come home. My seven months is almost up...
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