We paid homage to Oklahoma Mother Road maternal icon, Lucille Hamon, at the gas station where she and her family tended to road weary travelers for almost 60 years. While my wife grabbed some quick snapshots of the girls by the vintage Conoco gas pump out front, I took some curious glances into the now 7-years vacant building, trying to sneak a peek into the heart and soul of the historic roadside artform.
"You see Amarillo -- Gallup, New Mexico."
Hunger pangs found my little family truckster pulling into the huge expanse of a parking lot at Lucille's Roadhouse in Weatherford, a few mileage ticks down the road from it's namesake station.
This placed both rocked and rolled but several downers attempted to spoil our roadie/foodie experience here. First, our young waitress seemed to be having a bad day as our service left much to be desired, even though it wasn't all that crowded when we were seated. The menu selection was appropriate for the venue, the food vittles were yummy and there was plenty of it. The ciggie smoke that drifter over to our booth from the smoking room (clearly in violation of the state's recently imposed secondhand smoke law - wonder how this place got around the law?) was unwelcome as well.
If you visit this place, be sure to read the menu board at the entrance, otherwise you'll miss out on the delectable dessert and drink selections (glaringly absent from the laminated menus we were handed as we were seated).
The saving grace to our lunch was a terrific conversation we had with the gentleman manager who sold us some Lucille's Roadhouse souvies in the gift shop. We could have listened to his colorful anecdotes all day, and I was especially enamored with the large photo of his '69 Chevelle big block that sat behind the counter.
A quick snapshot of the girls out front (mimicking the pose we took at Lucille's Gas Station) and we were buckled up and road bound once again.
"Flagstaff, Arizona. Don’t forget Winona -- Kingman, Barstow, San Bernandino."
Next stop, the Route 66 Museum a few short miles away in Clinton.
What a wonderful museum this was, from the fabulous exterior design to the road-trippy feel of the displays inside.
The little old lady volunteer/docent who happily gave my girls their own admission stickers to wear had a little trouble determining that my 4-year old was indeed between the Infant to 5-year old category of free admission with a paid adult, but once that was settled, we stormed through the double doors entrance to the displays within with the gusto and finesse of a Pamplona bull run.
The best endorsement I can give for this museum is that it instills a sense of personality into what amounts to a very long hunk of concrete and asphalt.
For the $3 admission fee, it makes you want to belong to the Route 66 family.