Story By: Jon Stalnaker, AKA, The Studebaker Dude
I only had one request of this Route 66 adventure, and that was to hit all the towns mentioned in the chorus of the “Get Your Kicks on Route 66” song written by Bobby Troupe, made famous by Nat King Cole, and covered by a bazillion other artists throughout the years. By now we “drove through St Louie, Joplin Missouri, Oklahoma City looked mighty pretty…We saw Amarillo, Gallop New Mexico.” Remaining was Flagstaff Arizona, don’t forget Winona, Kingman, Barstow and San Bernardino.
After standing on the corner in Winslow, Arizona, we hit the road for Flagstaff. Now, in the song, they mention Flagstaff first, and then tell us not to forget Winona. So, when I was looking for the tiny town of Winona on the map, I was looking between Flagstaff and Kingman. I began to panic, as it was nowhere to be found. That was because Winona was actually before Flagstaff. It was a tiny town, but it had a clearly marked exit on Hwy 40. We took that exit and began looking for it. When I say it is a tiny town, that is no exaggeration. We saw the old Rt. 66 bridge and I got a picture of that. I was looking for the town, and after a few miles, I told Carlene there should be a curio shop somewhere along here. She told me that she saw one just before we got to the bridge so that must have been it. When people say, “don’t blink or you’ll miss it,” they must be talking about Winona, Arizona. I guess my focus on the bridge took away the peripherals I needed to see the town. Oh well, no turning back now. I still count it for the goal.
I was surprised at how beautiful it was in Flagstaff, Arizona. Nothing like the desert I expected when I envision Arizona. If we wanted to take more time, we could have spent it here. There were exits that would have taken us to the Grand Canyon and other roadside attractions. I was still so freaked out about the car that we buzzed right through there. Kingman was our next destination, and it would be time to eat when we got there. There was also a museum that we wanted to visit there. I saw a black and white picture in a magazine that showed a light-colored Bullet Nose Studebaker. I thought it could have been yellow like ours. We found the museum and sure enough, the car was yellow. I got some pictures of it and the resemblance was striking, despite the fact that it was a 1950 model and not a 1951, like mine. Only Studebaker people would even notice the difference unless they were parked side by side. I mentioned to the museum staff that I had a clone of that car out in the parking lot, but they seemed genuinely unimpressed. Oh well, that was a little anticlimactic. It was a nice museum though and well worth stopping.
There was a great 50s diner right across the street so we walked over, leaving the cars in the museum parking lot. We enjoyed the period correct cuisine; it was a true 50s diner with a jukebox and all the pictures you would expect to see on the walls, lots of hot rod cars and vintage magazine ads. And the menu contained everything you would expect to see in a Happy Days eatery.
We looked around a hot rod shop next door and took some pictures of the cars in varying stages of their builds. By the time we were ready to walk back to the cars it was pouring rain (again). Since it was so nice when we stopped, we were not prepared for this downpour. We got pretty wet before we reached our rides as we were dressed in shorts, short sleeves, and nothing to hold over our heads. Now we faced a long ride through the desert to get to Barstow. When we left California, it was still suffering from drought. With all the rain that soaked us in 12 other states, I was actually looking forward to some relief. That was not in the cards as we even got rained on when we got back into California. Aaugh…
