There is no sight more gratifying to me than the open road, for the open road allows the body to wander and the mind to wonder. It offers an escape for the imagination and a way of life governed by freedom and fueled by curiosity.
My name is Alexander, and I am a sophomore in Timothy Dwight College studying political science and history. Naturally, my day is complete with writing papers, reading research articles and attending lectures. And as much as I am a Yale student, I consider myself a student of the world with the open road as my classroom.
This travel column, On the Road, recounts several of my adventures on asphalt and all the lessons I have learned from the people, places and things I have encountered on all roads, from those well-traveled to those not taken.
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Buildings transformed into dark, nebulous shadows in the distance. The clouds were an ominous gray. The horizon sported a diluted shade of chartreuse. Thunder reverberated through a disconcerted sky. Rain fell on Santa Rosa, New Mexico, with indifference and without remorse. This storm seemed to be a companion to a storm we had just encountered outside of Santa Fe hours earlier. To wait out the storm, my parents and I parked on a hill overlooking town, grabbed takeout from the local McDonald’s and ate lunch in our car. Minutes later, the rain stopped. The clouds remained. With better driving conditions, we continued east on our way to Amarillo.
By the time we crossed into Texas, our windshield offered views of a blue sky with fluffy clouds. On the other hand, our rearview mirrors showed a billowing and bellowing storm. As the weather changed, so did the landscape. The land became flat, and its lack of contours was disturbed only by the presence of windmills. After briefly stopping for gas at Adrian, we made it to the outskirts of Amarillo and to Cadillac Ranch.
15 minutes west of downtown Amarillo, just off Interstate 40, are a series of Cadillacs half-buried in the earth. Ten in number, their angled tailfins point to the sky. This is Cadillac Ranch, an art installation created by a group of artists in 1978. Besides being a fascinating stop for visitors, Cadillac Ranch is also an iconic sight for modern-day roadtrippers following Route 66.
In every sense, the ranch is a living exhibition. Visitors are encouraged to leave their mark using spray paint. As a result, a medley of colors appear on the Cadillacs: black, white, red, pink, yellow, blue, green, purple. It was very much a buffet of colors, and their colors were just as diverse as the visitors who came to make their mark. As we parked our car on the side of the road, I walked past others that seemed to be from all corners of America; there were license plates from North Dakota to New York.
The path to the Cadillacs was muddied by the rain and covered with spray paint, evidence of painting practice left behind by novices or children. Streaks of blue and magenta swirled in a muddy puddle while red dust floated slowly in the air and dissolved behind a neighboring cornfield. We completed this short walk and got to the Cadillacs.
A large puddle surrounded the Cadillacs, preventing many from getting up close and spray painting them. Some visitors decided to wade into the muddy water and do so regardless. However, the majority, including me, just stood at a distance to gaze at them. The Cadillacs were a remarkable and colorful sight, offering a visual juxtaposition to the sodden earth and the cloudy skies that surrounded them.
Looking at the car closest to me, I saw the image of a smiley face. Behind this car was the image of a duck. A neighboring Cadillac was the home of a friendly painted ghost and, in the distance, I spotted another car, this time proudly sporting the image of a green redwood tree. In addition to the variety of images was a diversity of messages left by travelers. The messages ranged from the simple to the random and poetic. And, as one might expect, the number of the classic “I was here” was well-beyond my ability to count.
In the end, however, whatever messages and images left on the Cadillacs will not last. If they are not baked by the Texas sun, then they will become the foundation for another message or image. The blue streaks of paint on one Cadillac today may become a series of magenta hearts tomorrow. A declaration of love left by a couple in the morning could easily be replaced by a political statement or an observation of life by the evening.
While factors like its unique display and vibrant colors are noteworthy, the beauty of Cadillac Ranch lies in the fact that it will never look the same. The messages and images on the Cadillacs today were different from the ones yesterday, and they will be different from the ones tomorrow. They are as temporary as the writing on a chalkboard.
Cadillac Ranch is always in flux, and so is life. Today, I call myself a sophomore. Months from now, I will be a junior. A year from now, I will be a senior who is looking at the next phase of his life. Visiting Cadillac Ranch reminded me that things are always changing. At the same time, it made me recall that there is a certain beauty in impermanence and knowing that what you see in one moment is unique and yours alone to appreciate and remember. If there was anything I took away from that place, it was not my mud-soaked shoes or the scent of spray paint. It was the importance of savoring the moment or, indeed, any moment that will become distinct from all others and never pass again.
After spending a few more minutes looking at the Cadillacs and dropping our bags off at our hotel, we headed to dinner at the Big Texan Steak Ranch. Like Cadillac Ranch, it is another famous stop for Route 66 and interstate travelers. Originally established in 1960, the Big Texan relocated to its current location in 1970. Years later, the owners built a motel next to the steakhouse to cater to travelers. Its greatest claim to fame is its 72 ounce steak challenge. The challenge stipulates that the steak is free to anyone who can finish it, alongside a set of sides, within an hour. Winners not only get a free dinner meal, but also earn a spot on the restaurant’s walls and admiration from that day’s diners.
The restaurant screamed, “Texas.” Hoisted high above it for all interstate travelers to see was the figure of a cowboy advertising the restaurant’s steaks. Near its entrance was the statue of a large cow as well as a decommissioned wind pump. If those were not enough to convince you that you were in Texas, all you had to do was look into the sky and spot several Lone Star Flags catching the wind.
While waiting for a table, my parents and I decided to spend the time exploring the restaurant. In addition to the kitchen and the dining room, the Big Texan also featured a small bakery, shooting gallery and gift shop. Now many say that everything is bigger in Texas. If the restaurant and its iconic steak did not prove this point to me earlier in the evening, then the gift shop did. The store was a labyrinth of aisles and tables selling everything you can imagine, from Texas-themed welcome mats to souvenir steak brands. It was big, and it was packed. Dozens of people were shuffling through the store. Some were trying on cowboy hats. Others were spending too long deciding which shot glass they should purchase. Hoping to get some fresh air and take a break from the congestion, we paid for our gifts and went outside. The evening was cloudy, cool and quiet. The only sound in the air was the cars humming on the interstate, occasionally joined by the satisfied voices of patrons leaving through the door after a hearty dinner. After walking around outside the restaurant and taking some photos, we got a message from our waiter and settled into our seats.
The dining room occupied a substantial majority of the restaurant. On the ground floor were endless rows of tables, a series of booths that hugged the walls and a stage near the kitchen for those attempting to complete the steak challenge. Above it was a gallery that offered more seating for guests. The interior was western and rustic, complete with wooden furniture, cowhide-patterned tablecloths and wall-mounted animal heads. Patrons were laughing. Singers were strumming their guitars. Waiters were rushing to and fro with dishes and orders. The Big Texan at dinnertime was as busy as Commons during the lunch rush. The restaurant was alive with a strong energy that made it impossible to be impatient in the wait for one’s food.
A few minutes after we were seated, I was looking at a hearty steak served with mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese and complimented by a bottomless glass of sweet tea. A steak-lover myself, I thoroughly enjoyed the meal. It was delicious, fulfilling and an appropriate one for my first night in Texas. As I ate my dinner, a group of people began their attempt at the steak challenge. After an excited countdown, the timer began, and they got to work devouring the food before them. While they ate their dinner ravenously, I finished my own, deliberately savoring every bite, and felt well-fed and satisfied. We paid the check and left the restaurant shortly after.
Leaving the Big Texan, we immediately noticed that the weather conditions had changed. The restaurant, whose facade was bright yellow, glowed in the night as the skies above darkened and became overcast. The wind, having become cooler and bolder, made the flags surrounding the steakhouse wave in a series of hurried convulsions. As soon as we began the drive to our hotel, the rain began.
The storm we had encountered earlier in Santa Rosa has followed us east to Amarillo. It was more powerful than it was hours earlier. Over Amarillo on this night was a weeping, tear-ridden sky. Across its dark expanse danced streaks of lightning choreographed by a powerful storm. These bolts pierced across the sky, moving to the song of thunder that belted across Amarillo. This was the sight and soundtrack for my slumber, and with hopes for a calmer and better day, I turned off my lamp and settled in for a dramatic night’s sleep.