It is the last town bypassed by Interstate 40, a relic of the old Route 66. A place of steam engine trains, cowboys and handle bar mustaches. A city seemingly stuck in an era of yesteryear, and not wanting or needing to change a thing.
Welcome to Williams.![](https://i0.wp.com/mywalkabout.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/60e7f-usti6561.jpg?resize=640%2C480&ssl=1)
![](https://i0.wp.com/mywalkabout.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/60e7f-usti6561.jpg?resize=640%2C480&ssl=1)
Neon antiques litter the main street, along with vintage cars and Harley bikes. In the emptiness and quiet of morning, I walk along the train tracks with a owner less dog, together we try to get a feel for this town.
I try to explain to Cbug and crazylegs the history of the West as we walk together in the Arizona evening, but my attempt at a history lesson is lost in youthful boredom.![](https://i0.wp.com/mywalkabout.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/23610-hdre9248.jpg?resize=640%2C480&ssl=1)
![](https://i0.wp.com/mywalkabout.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/23610-hdre9248.jpg?resize=640%2C480&ssl=1)
That’s OK though, as I like to think the memories and conversations will stick with them subconsciously.