The Penske Chronicles, Day 2

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December 27, 2025- It sits across the street, like a monument to the end of an era. There it will receive its load, over the next few days, as my Prescott home is dismantled. It will “watch” silently, as furniture collectors come and go; as a cleaning crew arrives to remove twelve years of my footprint.

This Penske and I made it to the former Home Base I around 8:30, this evening. There was no one around, and as I collected a small amount of mail & newspapers, the night remained silent. Only the heater interrupted the stillness, providing its comfort with an occasional clanging and blowing.

The day started out much differently. Almara Inn’s housekeepers, a spirited team of three women, were on the job and bantering, not long after I got myself together. One of them, seeing no vehicle in front of the room, thought I had left and was delighted by the prospect of finishing early. I didn’t dampen her spirits by much, though, as I was out by 9:30.

Breakfast at Del’s was a quiet delight. The house was full, and my meal, ample. Two families were among the crowd, quietly keeping conversation. Two little girls, one clutching a doll, made me think of our Hana. It doesn’t take much to bring her top of mind. That will probably be so, for the rest of my life.

The road west was fairly uneventful. I was reminded, at a fuel stop in Albuquerque, to avoid tight spaces with this rig. No harm done, though, and I was able to gas up there, and again in Holbrook. I stopped for lunch at Dancing Eagle, in Laguna, and opted for the casino snack bar, over the busier full service restaurant. The small crew at the snack bar was working just as hard, and prepared a decent chicken quesadilla.

The storm that had ravaged southern California, earlier this week, made its presence known as I went through Flagstaff. It was no where near as fierce as it had been, though, and by the time I reached the Sedona junction, there was no sign of precipitation. The sizeable group of travelers kept in order, and we all made it safely downhill.

Once off I-17, there was scant traffic, and on up to Prescott we went-the last time I will make that trip as a resident. Three more days, and this soon-to-be Texan will carry Arizona in heart, only returning as a visitor, now and then-just as I do to Massachusetts and Maine.

The Penske Chronicles, Day 1

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December 26, 2025, Tucumcari- I admit it, driving a large vehicle, with limited and convex mirrors, through a busy Metropolitan area kind of frightens me. Nonetheless, my present task, for the next seven days, involves driving this Penske moving van from Plano to Prescott and back. I was taught to face my fears and find a way to get difficult things done. I credit both my father and my Army drill instructors for this.

After Aram dropped me at the rental office, this morning, I spent an hour with the flustered agency clerk, working through the AI-generated snap price increase-which was reversed by calling the main office. The clerk was more than a bit irritated by the increase, and felt vindicated when the area director restored the price than he and I had agreed on, over the phone.

So, I set out onto a busy US Highway 75, holding still for three vehicles to my left, who were trying to exit the highway, then merging onto the thoroughfare and letting my phone’s GPS guide me through the rest of the Metroplex portion of the journey-about 50 miles. There was no further hassle.

First stop was for lunch, at a Pilot Truckstop, in the small village of Justin, best known for its cowboy boots outlet. I have no need for such boots, so after lunch and fueling the truck, I headed up the Northwest Passage. Another fuel stop in Childress was followed by dinner and picking up a few items at the Buccee’s, in Amarillo.

It was still light out, so I enjoyed the sunset and headed onward to the Mesalands. Almara Inn proved a perfect stop for the night, with a spacious area for the Penske to rest the night as well. Best of all, it’s right next to Del’s Diner, where I had dinner the last time here, and plan to enjoy breakfast there tomorrow. I might very well get all the way to Prescott by tomorrow night, adding an extra day for boxing up remaining items and loading the truck, ahead of Tuesday’s furniture pick-up and deep cleaning by a hired crew.

It has always paid to face my fears.

Tik-Tok

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December 1, 2025, Tucumcari- My friend sat across from me, in a crowded coffee shop, on the west side of Amarillo. He referred, a couple of times, to things he’d seen on Tik-Tok, a medium he finds amusing. A few minutes later, he told of posts on said medium that he found revolting.

I have never been a fan of Tik-Tok,nor of Snap Chat, Reddit or any other medium that relies, for its existence, on mass, conformity-based consumption of whatever drivel the worst among its contributors serves up, particularly in the form of “challenge”. Whoever dreamed up the nightmare that was “Tide Pod Challenge” (before Tik-Tok, in fairness) deserves to be consigned to the scrap heap of historical opprobrium. Its successors, some of which have found their way to Tik-Tok (i.e. Jam Jar Pulse Jet), likewise deserve nothing short of universal condemnation, for the resulting harm they cause both those who attempt them and their loved ones who are left to pick up the pieces of the person(s) left in relative ruin.

Tik-Tok could have become the purveyor of presentations that elevate humanity, the way Wikipedia and, for the most part, TED Talks and You Tube have become. Instead, we have the media promoter of the ethos that is reflected in that most odious of sentiments, “It’s better than Crack!” End of rant.

The day was, all in all, very nice. I bid farewell to my little family, for a few weeks, then found it fairly easy to exit Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. The drive along Northwest Passage was easy, and I found my lunch stop, Valley Pecans, rather deserted. Somehow, I was about the first customer at that lovely cafe-emporium, and was, thankfully, followed by about a dozen other people. It was Noon, so high time for travelers to surface.

After my visit with friend, Wes, In Amarillo and a fuel stop, I made it to this high desert gem, taking this room at Rodeway Inn and heading to Del’s Diner, one of Tucumcari’s best. Del’s has been around since 1966, and the crowds, such as the one there tonight, are proof of its excellence. Martha and crew treated everyone special, tonight. The regulars attest that this is no fluke. It’s how the crew is every day, every meal. Viva Del’s; viva Tucumcari!

Back Along A Golden Road

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July 17-18, 2019-

It had been three years, since I was last in Colorado. In the words of a waitress at one of my favoured spots, Del’s Diner, in Fort Garland, “That’s just too long!”  Del’s had been a bit of a dive, but had remodeled and was doing just fine.  The food was every bit as good as I remember.

U.S. 160 is one of those roads that make me feel at home, regardless of where I am, along its passage.  The same thing is true of Old 66; Highway 1, along the Pacific Coast; U. S. 30, through the Midwest,; and MOST of U.S. 1.

So, I took the road, from Ulysses, Kansas to its western terminus, in Tuba City, AZ.  A side hop was necessary, for me to take in Sand Creek National Monument.  From La Junta, though, I zipped down to Trinidad, then back up I-25 to Walsenburg, from which I could re-visit my favourite part of 160:  Colorado’s southern tier.  Thus came dinner at Del’s and a long search for a place to stay that wouldn’t mean my budget would need a budget.  Colorado seems to be even more popular than usual, this summer.  That does my heart good.

The Spanish Peaks are a fine greeter, just east of Walsenburg.

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The San Juan Mountains, between Del Norte and Pagosa Springs, are a reminder that snow regards the Rocky Mountain State as its summer home. (I’ve been in Colorado, at some point, each month of the year, and seen it snow, each and every month.)

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I stopped briefly in South Park, just west of the formidable Wolf Creek Pass, and found a Cal King was the only bed available.  Since I’m not part of a package deal, up and over the Pass I went.  Going through the pricey resorts of Pagosa Springs and Durango, the night drive came to an end at Mesa Verde Motel, Mancos.  There, I was generously offered a room at discount.  It is a “dog room”, the owners being pet lovers, but there was no sign of dog hair anywhere in the room.  Mesa Verde’s owners are just gentle, laid back people, and I  recommend the place for anyone finding themselves tired and on the west side of heaven.

The home stretch began with a stop at Mc Elmo Creek Flume, an irrigation channel, built in 1921.

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Seeking to stretch my legs a bit, before lunch, I walked around the City Park, in downtown Cortez.  A laid-back Ute gent, seeking to impress some ladies in his company, started to mock me, while I was walking up the hill. When that had no effect, he asked if i were a veteran. “Yes, I am, and you? ” “You know it, Bro….. Devil Dogs!”  He had the tattoo of a Marine, and though I recall the name being used specifically for those in the Corps, who fought at Belleau Wood, during World War I, I gave him a pass on that.  Everyone deserves a semblance of dignity and respect.

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Lunch time was here.  I sadly noted that my go-to place, Jack and Janelle’s, had gone belly up.  A walk downtown showed that there was someplace fairly new:  The Farm Bistro.  I gave it a shot, and am glad of it.  Alex and crew are spot-on, with great cuisine and set a spunky, welcoming ambiance.  Each party selects a plastic animal for its table, as a cue to the server.

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My visit to Cortez came to a close, and shortly, thereafter, I was back in Arizona.  Along the drive down the Navajo Nation, I noted that two once grocery-deprived communities, Red Mesa and Dennehotso, now have local markets.  One place that has nothing is Baby Rocks, yet this little village, east of Kayenta, could easily be the next big outdoors thing.

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This little wonderland is close enough to tourist-mecca Monument Valley, that a Dineh entrepreneur could easily remove the “Best Kept Secret” label from Baby Rocks.

Going onward, for four more hours, I brought this phase of Summer, 2019, to a peaceful conclusion.  Carson City, and my  Nevada extended family, await next week, after a few days of meetings here at Home Base.  My eyes and heart are always open, to what counts most in life:  Love of humanity.