freethoughtandmetaphor

Sometimes the little guy wins.  Driving toward home on Interstate 40 we planned to stop at the Shell plus Dairy Queen between Tucumcari and Santa Rosa.  It had closed.  Our next opportunity, ten miles down the road, was this little gas station.  That white door on this side of it is the post office of Newkirk, New Mexico, a town which scarcely exists since the Interstate came through.   The market at this gas station had regular coffee with dry creamer.  No cappuccino machine?  How quickly we grow accustomed to our travel patterns.  But they did have small bottles of milk so we could skip the dry creamer.

For all its tiny size and old-fashioned look, this gas station has been redone, perhaps more recently than the road.  Route 66 is only to be found in sections, where the Interstate didn’t cover it up.  Back when I came through New Mexico with my parents, it was the main road.

These pictures are uncropped because for me part of the delight of New Mexico is the expanse of sky.  How is it different from the Midwest?  Perhaps it’s the dryness that makes it sharper.  Perhaps it is just that it is home.