Day 6 -- Flagstaff, Arizona to Gallup, New Mexico -- 185 Miles

Everywhere we go on our RV travels nowadays, Concetta and I always marvel at how America is changing. Bustling towns with once modern amenities like major banks, hardware stores, and cafes are now often all but dead, their main streets vacant of human traffic and their shops closed. Often main streets look more like the dusty, tumbleweed-festooned streets in a Clint Eastwood western than the thriving business communities they were once upon a time.

On the other hand, sleepy little single-lane hamlets and villages that we might have seen as children or visited as young adults have mysteriously burgeoned into massive cities bisected by multi-lane freeways, high-traffic rail lines, and sprawling commercial sections fringed by tens of thousands of homes.

In the last twenty-four hours, as we cruised east across Arizona, we experienced both these "realities." Yesterday, when we made a reservation at the KOA campground and arrived just before dinnertime, it came as quite a shock when we realized that we had almost certainly stayed at the same campground on our very first summer vacation together back in 1977. At that time we were both single, and had only just met the preceding fall.

Our mode of transportation that summer was Concetta's tired old 1964 VW Bug that had a top speed of 45 miles per hour, unless you were going downhill or had a distinct tailwind. How we actually made it to Flagstaff in the car can be described as nothing short of a miracle.

That particular day in 1977, when we arrived at the campground in Flagstaff and climbed the steepish driveway to pitch our tent in a semi-secluded clearing, we had driven much of the way on Route 66, the now fabled two-lane road with all it's peaceful bucolic scenery and lack of heavy trucks. Things were so peaceful in our camp that I don't remember hearing any distractions at all. It was like we were completely alone, which was very nice for our brand new relationship.

Fast forward 45 years to our arrival last night and the difference was phenomenal. We rolled into town on Interstate 40 which didn't even exist in 1977. When nearing the camp address, we exited Interstate 40 and headed north to Route 86 where we took a right onto what I believe was old route 66. From there it was an easy jump to the camp entrance.

"The camp entrance seems familiar," I told Concetta, "but nothing surrounding the entrance looks familiar."

Right across the street from the camp entrance was a huge shopping center that went on for several city blocks. Where once there existed the narrow, two-lane Route 66 edged by grassy fields and pine trees, now there are six lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic practicing the rush hour ritual, parking lots with thousands of cars, and every possible commerical business you would ever need in one place.

Once inside the camp, we were hopeful that there would be some peace and quiet, but that was not to be. Where in 1977 we could easily pretend we were the only campers in the secluded forest setting, now the camp was comprised of dozens and dozens of campsites, all filled with glossy motorhomes and fifth wheels. And every single one of these vehicles came complete with othen noisy campers and pets.

In short, the future had completely usurped our one-time camping paradise.

But what if such economic development had never happened? What if Flagstaff and our once idyllic campground had been bypassed by humanity, much as vast stretches of Route 66 in today's world have been cut off by the Interstate Highway system and been bypassed and ignored by the general public?

As we headed east from Flagstaff to Gallup, New Mexico today we saw firsthand what has happened to many, many of the once-thriving towns and commercial stop-overs on Route 66, which often paralleled our travels on Route 40. Graffitti artists have made great sport of tagging the sad remaining motels, gas stations, and houses along Route 66, but it is nothing more than a feeble desicration of a cemetery. It just made it easier to realize that the dead weren't coming back to life!

But what if the death could somehow have been staved off? Well, that question has been answered by the folks in the community of Winslow, Arizona. There, thanks to a chance hit by a very popular musical group, both the death AND the funeral have been forestalled indefinitely.

As most of you know, Winslow figured prominently in the Eagles hit, "Take it Easy." Here's a writeup I found in "Arizona Journey:" "Rock song Take it Easy, [was] made famous by the group, The Eagles. The town of Winslow has embraced the song and created a park commemorating the song. In the opening line, lead singer Glenn Frey belted out “standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see. It's a girl my Lord in a flatbed Ford slowing down to take a look at me....” putting that town (and that corner) forever on the map of must-see rock-and-roll sights."

"Standing on the Corner Park refers to the opening line to one of Eagles’ most iconic songs, from their debut self-titled album. Jackson Browne and Eagles co-founder Glenn Frey wrote Take it Easy in 1971, and it was released as the Eagles’ first single in 1972. Even a half-century later, the song still resonates."

Although there is much to be done in Winslow to keep the spectre of death away from the door, what we saw today gave us hope that it might be possible to recapture some of the glory of the old Route 66 days if tourists brought to town seeking the famous corner and flatbed truck could be pursuaded to stay by other attractions, or at least pursuaded to have a burger, buy a t-shirt, or grab a tank of gas as was done with us today.

If you would like to read more on the Winslow phenomenum, or think you'd someday like to get YOUR photo on the famed street corner, paste this URL into your browser to see Arizona Journey's description:

https://arizonajourney.org/standing-on-the-corner-winslow-arizona/