Day 8 -- Albuquerque to Tucumcari, New Mexico -- 163 Miles

Today we rolled out of Albuquerque under blue skies, fluffy white clouds -- well, most of them -- and resumed our sojourn east in search of adventure and fairly decent RV parks. Our plan initially was to stop at the office laundry facility, and, if found empty, to gather up the bedding, towels, and other hamper items and do some washing machine duty.

Amazingly enough, not a soul was present in the laundry roomm, and we had an amazing opportunity to do ALL our laundry without having to wait for anyone else. I told Concetta to bogart the three machines we needed, and I'd dash back to the rig and bring all the washables to her.

Sadly, by the time I had accumulated everything, a six-foot tall, tattoo-covered bruiser driving a lifted black four-wheel drive truck had arrived, ambled into the washing machine room like he owned the place, and grabbed the two washers that Concetta had not yet actually covering with crime scene tape to protect. Since he was a good two feet taller and outweighing her by at least a hundred pounds, she decided to keep mum and just be glad she managed to keep one machine to herself. We got to wash the sheets and towels, but I got to lug the rest of the laundry back to the rig and hope for another opportunity down the road.

When 10 o'clock rolled around, we were finished and were rolling down old Highway 66 toward the nearest onramp for Interstate 40. Now is probably a good time to explain why we're spending so much time on the Interstate unlike our usual vacations. The reason is pretty simple. Over the past half dozen or more RV trips, we have racked up around 50,000 miles, a large percentage of which has been criss-crossing the southwestern states. Since this time our plans are to spend more time in the southeastern part of the country, it makes more sense to more quickly and more directly reach the Mississippi before we start exploring the backroads.

It turned out to be weird sort of day in more ways than one. In addition to the laundry, we really needed to buy a few grocery items just as soon as we spotted our traditional shopping mecca, the ubiquitous Walmart. Though I have spent a large portion of my life avoiding the Walmart like I avoid people with the flu, once we became RVers we soon learned that Walmart is your very best friend in the world when you're on the road. They stock every conceivable item you might want in your rig including those special items on the RVers aisle like sewer hose extensions.

Today, I solemnly swear that we did not see a single Walmart, at least one on our side of the freeway, the over the entire day. I think we did see one initially as we careened through Albuquerque on our way out of town. But caught between armies of 18-wheelers, getting to the offramp in time would have proven impossible. Naturally, we told ourselves that there would be another one on the horizon in thirty minutes or less. Well, that didn't happen, and we never saw another one all day. "Okay, fine," Concetta said. "We'll just make do with the groceries we have." Yes, I thought, maybe tomorrow will surprise us with better luck.

After leaving Albuquerque (which I'm spelling correctly like a pro now), we spent a very pleasurable day just enjoying the rolling plains and scanning the horizon for anything that might make good photo subjects. We hadn't really seen anything we could conveniently reach from the Interstate -- part of the reason we don't usually travel the "four-lanes" -- so we just sat back and enjoyed New Mexico.

Around lunch time, we pulled into a rest stop packed with legions of tractor-trailer rigs that had left scant room for us pipsqueek RVers. Fortunately, we eventually saw an overflow parking area off to the southeast that had plenty of room and was far enough away from the trucks so that their engine noise wouldn't overwhelm our lunchtime ambience.

That's when I finally saw my photo opportunity. I had been eating my sandwich while idly surfing Facebook, when I happened to glance out the window and saw the perfect shot for a person wanted to write something about commerce in America. Dropping my sandwich on the plate, I grabbed the camera and sprinted for the door before the scene outside had a chance to change subject matter or lighting. "Be right back," I said to Concetta, and was gone.

Commerce in America is always a subject that I find fascinating, especially as we motor across America and see literally thousands of trucks crossing the country in both directions every day. In addition, if you have an opportunity to remain in one place in the vicinity of a set of railroad tracks, you soon find out that mile-long trains rumble by every quarter of an hour or so.

Today, while we were waiting for the laundry in Albuquerque, I conducted a test I like to do in such sedentary moments. I picked out a point at the edge of the Interstate, in this case a tree, and every time an 18-wheeler reached my point of reference I counted it. Most of the time I use a time increment of just two minutes, which is what I did today. Although I viewed the traffic volumne as "light" compared to what I have seen in the past, I counted 18 commercial big rigs passing my reference tree. Doing the math, that's one every 6.5 seconds or so, and 12,960 trucks in a 24-hour period. Truly awesome!

So when I looked out my window and saw the most handsome line of trucks imagineable, I just had to have that shot. Fortunately, nobody moved their truck while I was shooting, but soon after trucks began to leave and more trucks arrived. I had grabbed just the perfect moment to attain my goal. So far I haven't captured any photos of trains hauling double-stacked cargo boxes, hopper cars of coal, or graffitti-embellished automobile carriers, but I'm watching out for my chance.

This afternoon we sort of took a wrong turn trying to follow a segment of Route 66 while scouting for our evening camp in Tucumcari, New Mexico. Our destination had the unlikely name of Blaze-In-Saddle RV Park and you'd think we'd have seen it from the Interstate, but unfortunately we zigged when we should have zagged and ended up closer to the competitive KOA camp on the south side of the Interstate. But Concetta got the camp host on the phone and soon worked out that we had wandered off down a country road instead of sticking to Route 66 on the north side. When we reversed our direction, thanks to a farmer's muddy driveway, we soon came upon the our sought-after camp and all was well. Even better, the laundry room at Blaze-In-Saddle was completely empty, and we got to complete our unfinished washing chore from this moring.

So all was well that ended well. Hopefully, tomorrow we will be more successful in finding the elusive Walmart and will complete the other chore we didn't complete today. So until then, we wish you many happy adventures of your own.