You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
With the cats properly settled into the jam-packed car (the older one immediately going to sleep for the duration, the younger one carefully sedated on a lap), we've hurtled down I-81, one of the most crash-ridden interstates in the east, past the southwestern tongue of Virginia into the welcoming arms of a La Quinta Inn & Suites by Knoxville, Tennessee. 18 December 2025.
Now, blasting out at an earlyish hour, we're wending westward on I-40 (from this point nearly to our destination), 19 December 2025, with so far very forgiving traffic on the road.
Six hours' driving time can be, for some of us, a lot, but we keep our spirits up by following the BBC, NPR, and Canadian CBC news shows rotating on Sirius.
At some point we're edging past Nashville, with lunch in a fastfood near the highway.
Coincidentally, Kristin was in Nashville a week ago, by airplane via Chicago, to babysit Little Buddy whilst Emily was in a conference at her work's headquaraters.
But today's port of call is meant to be in downtown Memphis, another La Quinta -- which is, sadly, one of the only US hotel chains that usually accepts cats.
So we, in effect, flit from La Quinta to La Quinta on every road trip, and they're nearly all well appointed, comfy, and not terribly expensive. Though there are some exceptions, as they're overseen by the Wyndham chain, which can sometimes stroke with a broader brush -- as in, e.g., the 'La Quinta Inn by Wyndham Toledo Perrysburg, Ohio'.
A few other chains will take cats but can charge up to $50 or $60 for each.
A festive and well-appointed lobby-cum-breakfast room. La Quinta breakfasts are not bad at all (especially if you really like waffles a lot), but we normally, in our haste, just thermo up on the coffee and hit the road till lunchtime.
We're scouting downtown Memphis for a congenial place for dinner, and amongst all the tavern types . . .
. . . we did find a small restaurant, entirely deserted of diners, which was just fine for us.
From Memphis, we stick with I-40 across Arkansas . . .
. . . due west, flat, south of the Ozarks apparently, but with the requisite number of huge patriotic flags to keep our spirits up.
We're headed for Fort Smith on the Oklahoma border, and so far things are going pretty well.
Can't be far off now.
Ah, 'home at last' (as it were)
A seven hour drive this time, more or less heading for the Oklahoma City area, 20 December 2025, with a sort of personal landmark anticipated along the way.
Oh, that looks a bit familiar. Maybe it's just the patriotic flag, but we'll see.
No, there it is!! -- downtown Shawnee and Kickapoo St, where one of us spent three fun-filled years teaching at the university there. It was not at all bad, some very good students amongst the lot, some enlightened administrators at that time.
But we won't be stopping in for the nostalgia -- we're aiming, as it happens, for Moore City.
A slight scheduling error this time -- this attractive La Quinta is actually south of I-40 in Oklahoma City by 20 minutes of serious late afternoon traffic. Halfway down towards Norman (where we also lived for a while near the University of Oklahoma).
Cats happily divested of their traveling harnesses and leashes
On the road again, 21 December 2025, westward across Oklahoma, and . . .
. . . in amongst the vast fields of wind turbines across western Oklahoma . . .
. . . and the Texas 'panhandle' . . .
That road alongside the interstate, by the way, is the original Route 66 of everlasting Jack Kerouac fame.
. . . past Amarillo . . .
. . . and into New Mexico.
Don't tell Trump, he hates 'windmills' -- he'd be likely to issue an 'executive order' to shut them all down.
To another La Quinta, this one in Tucumcari, NM
The cats are waiting for their dinner before we step out for ours.
It was a Sunday night, however, and none of the recommended restaurants was open. But we found a Blake's Lotaburger fastfood place about to close, which was entirely suitable for us.
As it turns out, it's part of a formidable chain, based in Albuquerque, founded in 1952 and now at 75 locations in the southwest, mostly in New Mexico. Who knew?
The next morning, anxious to get moving again
So far, everything's still flat.
With from time to time, the odd something-or-other beside the road
Still flat, we'll be passing the Route 66 Auto Museum in Santa Rosa soon (without stopping). And then Bowlin's Flying C Ranch near Encino, after hundreds of amusing billboards all along the highway.
Exit 226 in the offing, after a hour's drive, coming up soon to Exit 218 at Cline's Corners and US Hwy 285 north.
Now for an hour's journey up 285 towards Santa Fe, with . . .
. . . the Sangre de Cristo Mountains just starting to make an appearance.
Actually, today we're bound for the Apache Ridge Road, 20 minutes south of Santa Fe proper on I-25.
And just off the Old Las Vegas Hwy, that's the Apache Ridge Road, bouncy and dusty, with just a mile up it to our destination.
And here we are. Kristin's late ex-husband bought this interesting house on a 5-acre desert plot, and her son George has been living here whilst trying to sort out the various trusts, bills, and necessary improvements.
It appears that Delbert's intention was to leave the property to his children, but much needs to be done.
We've been hastily unpacking the Virginia Rocket and piling everything up in the commodious bedroom. 22 December 2025
The house is replete with art works of varied genres, from portraits of clan heritage, to paintings by an artistic family luminary (George Barse) and others from the Anglo and other artists associated with the island of Capri in the late 19th century, and . . .
. . . some from Southwestern traditions.
We've been summoned . . .
. . . to the ensuite bathroom, as it happens, where Melvin is already intrigued by the views.
He's as confused by big windows next to the bathtub as we are.
In any case, it's time to deharness the little prisoners of the road.
This is Little Buddy (aka George Michael) with his afternoon snack. His mom Emily's is here with him, having driven down from Chicago, whilst his dad and stepsister have sped on to visit family in Mexico for a few Christmasy days.
The bathtub views can be addictive, from . . .
. . . from the outside as well.
Settling in, we'll take a short walk round the property.
Lawn ornaments abound
It's a five-acre desert property along a ridgeline, nicely spaced out. We've been warned never to touch anything out here -- a casual brush with a bush might slice your arm off.
That's looking west towards the Sandia Mountains just east of Albuquerque, 60 miles to the southwest.
Looking back up at the house from down in the 'garden'
An enigmatic presence near the bottom of the property -- a classical-looking figure draped with a fabric cloak.
No explanations are provided.
Back up to the house now
The living room, and . . .
. . . the adjacent dining room . . .
. . . here seen from the kitchen
Tired little animals settling down for the evening, 22 December 2025
And, soon, preparing for 23 December 2025
A collection of iconography (including an interesting St George w/ dragon)
Next up: A brief visit in to Santa Fe, with its Cathedral
Dwight Peck's personal website
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