I love you in the winter, summer, spring, and in the fall.
I love your fertile valleys; your dear mountains I adore,
I love your grand old ocean and I love her rugged shore."
Did you know that California has an official State Song? Yeah, me neither. There's the first stanza, and let me tell you, upon arriving in our home state, we saw...none of that.
Holy. Cow. The eastern side of this state is desolate. Depressing. Mile after mile after mile of hot (106-degrees), dry, barren land. Yes, there were majestic, craggy mountains, but after the third hour of hot, dry desert, we were looking for that "grand old ocean and rugged shore."
Truth time, too: we deviated from Route 66 upon crossing the border in Needles, CA. We looked at the map, at the desert, at the temperature, and took a good hard look at the fact that we were driving our THIRD rental car, and decided that it would be prudent to stick to the interstate. Where there are Highway Patrol officers and other people around in case "Ethel" started to have problems (which she did not, thank you very much). We did join the Mother Road after Barstow, and after the danger of breaking down in the middle of nowhere had passed.
Lodging in the LA area has been a challenge, as there's some kind of convention going on. As Thelma was battling traffic (let's face it, after crossing the country via back roads with maaaaybe one other car, to suddenly be thrown into LA traffic is a bit of a shock), Louise was making call after call after call to find us a place to stay. It's kinda fitting that the only place we could find is an old Motor Court in Glendale. It's our last night officially on the journey of Route 66, as tomorrow, we will end at Santa Monica Pier; so staying in one last, iconic motel just works.
(It was waaaaay too bright and waaaaay too early in the morning for it to be so bright.)
gotta know what you ate at the roadkill cafe????
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