Large desert expanses in between towns are all one finds out here. I ride along the old Route 66 when I can, taking my time.
A cafe in the morning on the 4th of July in Seligman. I get a hearty breakfast with the locals, then walk from one edge of town to the other, taking in the kitschy artwork and knick knacks of this place. Memories have to suffice, as I’ve no idea what happened to my pictures of my time here.
Abandoned buildings rot in the summer sun where no building should rightly have been built. Sometimes the American dream fails.
I find new trails to explore once the weather cools down, so I jot down the name and location on a notepad I have for “future adventures“.
I pull into Williams, hoping to get a bite to eat at a small Thai restaurant, but once again Covid strikes, leaving this place closed. I wonder if they’ll ever open back up, or will they become another victim on the Route 66 highway?
I settle into a comfy booth of a 1950’s diner instead. They have real milkshakes, in only three flavors : Chocolate, Strawberry and Vanilla.
Just like when I was a child. I get a Vanilla shake, and almost have a stroke trying to use a patriotic paper straw. I look out the large windows to the people outside and see bikers without masks and churchgoers with masks.
I never thought the end of the world would look like this.