近距离内射合集

GALLUP 鈥� The historic El Rancho Hotel proclaims in words painted over its front portico: 鈥淐harm of Yesterday. Convenience of tomorrow.鈥�

For Okies fleeing the Dust Bowl, Route 66 was a long march to a better future. When mass-produced automobiles made luxury more common, it signaled progress, leisure and prosperity. For younger, footloose wayfarers on two or four wheels, it was an adventure.

The thoroughfare named Historic Highway 66 passing through Gallup is packed with callbacks to the storied Mother Road that opened New Mexico to travelers along a two-lane, 2,448-mile circuit connecting Chicago to the Santa Monica pier.

鈥淧eople are nostalgic for something either they experienced or they've heard about and want to try to experience themselves,鈥� Gallup鈥檚 tourism director, Matthew Robinson, told me over coffee at the Gallup Coffee Company on Coal Street.

鈥淚 think we're always kind of biased to think the world when we're alive is the craziest it's ever been,鈥� he continued. 鈥淧eople like to escape or reach back and touch a time they think maybe was simpler, or more cut-and-dry, less crazy. And I think the route provides a physical and metaphorical avenue to that.鈥�

Gallup鈥檚 historical heritage is older and larger than Route 66. It sits adjacent to the Navajo Nation and Zuni Pueblo and has served as a gathering place for commerce and cultural exchange for generations. On Route 66, Gallup was a key stop between Flagstaff and Albuquerque.

鈥淩oute 66 brought America to the Southwest,鈥� Billy Keeler said in a showroom of Richardson鈥檚 Trading Co., which opened its doors in 1913. 

Over 113 years, Richardson鈥檚 has expanded into several connected storefronts showcasing Native American jewelry, fiber art and pottery wrought by Din茅, Zuni and Hopi artisans. In the heyday of Route 66, the business allowed people on the reservations, who could not borrow money from banks, to secure loans with saddles or other valuables.

From the 1950s to the 1970s, the wider, more modern Interstate 40 was built. 鈥淚t killed a lot of small towns on Route 66,鈥� Keeler said.

鈥淧eople could drive two to three hours and then you had to stop,鈥� recalled Joe DiGregorio, whose father founded the California Supermarket chain in Gallup in 1950. 鈥淭hen the interstate came through and cars got more efficient. People could gas up in Flagstaff and make it all the way to Albuquerque.鈥�

In recent years, Richardson鈥檚 has focused more seriously on retail, showcasing works by younger generations of smiths, jewelers and weavers.

鈥淵ou just have to adapt; you have to change,鈥� Keeler, also a practicing attorney, told me as we sat among dazzling rugs suspended from the ceiling.

Richardson鈥檚 has also built an internet presence and a branded jewelry line marketing works with its stamp of authenticity: 鈥淲e know exactly who did it,鈥� Keeler said. 鈥淲e can confirm real silver, real stones, real coral, whatever it is.鈥�

Gallup has preserved its historic commercial center and hosts regular outdoor street markets and weeknight Indigenous dancing. Downtown murals, walking tours, ballooning, museums 鈥� there seems to be plenty to do in Gallup even before you get to this month鈥檚 three-day Route 66 centennial celebration, to include car and motorcycle events and an ascension with 66 hot air balloons (naturally).

Dreams of authenticity

Over several days exploring the old road from Cubero to the Arizona state line, I visited roadside shops exhibiting white caricatures of Native American culture. The decor included classic 鈥渃igar store Indian鈥� statuary depicting men in buckskin, beads and feathered war bonnets that were not Din茅 attire.

In the anteroom of the TeePee Trading Post near Lupton, Arizona 鈥� a building shaped like a giant teepee, which isn鈥檛 part of Din茅 tradition either 鈥� an animatronic Indian offered to print out my fortune for a dollar. 鈥淵ou seek wisdom? Medicine man knows ancient truth,鈥� it assured me in a recorded voice backed by pan flute.

I skipped the fortune and entered the store to browse T-shirts, key fobs, dream catchers, knives, pipes and tobacco, and Route 66 coffee mugs with your name printed on them, if you鈥檙e lucky. (These stores never seem to have 鈥淎lgernon鈥� in stock.) I bought a $12 replica arrow with decorative beads and a chiselled stone point for my 9-year-old son back home.

Outside, a tourist from North Carolina walked up and down the strip of tourist shops while the lady traveling with him took a picture of a storefront that was collapsing into itself.

鈥淚 used to come here as a kid,鈥� he said without looking at me. 鈥淚 swear there were more stores here. It all seemed bigger.鈥�

He wasn鈥檛 in a mood to talk. I understood, having felt grateful more than once no one was chattering at me while I drove through miles and miles of red and taupe sandstone cliffs, Navajo trust land, the Continental Divide, the ruins of gas stations and junked cars. On a long road trip, weariness and melancholy can soak into your bones and the roots of your hair. Silence is a balm.

Authenticity is an elusive idea on the fabled Mother Road. Sections of it have been taken over by the superhighway; some are in poor shape or closed to traffic altogether. Route 66 exists more as a brand and historical celebration, a dream, than a physical road.

鈥淔or lack of a better word, it鈥檚 nostalgia,鈥� Keeler said. 鈥淔oreigners will come through because they read about Route 66 or saw something online.鈥�

鈥淭here are several European motorcycle groups that come through,鈥� Robinson said. 鈥淭here are entire companies out there whose bread and butter is facilitating your trip on motorcycle or bus or car.鈥�

Optimism for tomorrow

There are glimpses of town centers that once thrived, like Santa Fe Avenue through Grants, where I stayed at a motel built in the 1960s now named the Leisure Lodge. The exterior barely looks updated from its days as a TraveLodge yet the recently renovated interior offered modern amenities.

Across the street were husks of motels with roofs caving in. My trip was full of such juxtapositions: Abandoned buildings next to fresh Route 66 signage and murals, from Grants to Milan and on to Gallup.

Around them all, remains of ghost towns, legends and tall tales liven up the route, such as the enduring story of Ernest Hemingway lodging in Cubero and earning himself the nickname 鈥淓l Diablo鈥� for his boorish behavior toward staff.

And there is the El Rancho Hotel, its history as a local business intertwined with Hollywood鈥檚 mythologizing of cowboys and Indians and the movie stars who gave us all that make-believe.

As a U.S. highway, Route 66 was decommissioned in 1984; yet a weird, durable American fantasy and tourist enterprise remain.

So what, in the end, is New Mexico鈥檚 Route 66? Perhaps it is, after all, the state of mind when one resolves to pack some snacks, rev up the engine and go exploring; not to get somewhere efficiently, as on the modern interstate, but to stop frequently, perhaps in every town, get out of the car, eat some chile and talk to strangers.

Algernon 顿鈥橝尘尘补蝉蝉补 is the Journal鈥檚 southern New Mexico correspondent. He can be reached at adammassa@abqjournal.com.