Ever wonder whatever happened to the Partridge Family Bus? We'll c'mon let's all get happy and groovy as the Partridge Family takes a break at a Mexican restaurant. We'll end with a tribute to the most famous of all bus drivers, Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden. So roll up for the magical mystery tour and find out who really does ride the magic bus as we hop aboard and get ready to kick asphalt

See America First...Leave the Driving to Us -- Greyhound Bus
The sound of the steel belts eating asphalt beneath the behemoth Greyhound Scenicruiser. The countryside gliding as the swaying motion of the bus gently rocks you to sleep. Whoops...there goes Nebraska. Wyoming. New Mexico. North Carolina. The Atlantic and the Pacific Coast. The bus pushes ever onward, confident in its pursuit of the next stop. Confident, because this, my friends, is the royal realm of The Greyhound Bus.

Greyhound has been a part of Roadhead lore and legend since its conception in 1914. Although sometimes the object of derision and hostility, it is also the object of veneration among the bus faithful.

The Greyhound Museum
Hibbing, Minnesota, packed like a snowball in the great white north of the land of 10,000 lakes may seem unlikely as the birthplace of an American transportation icon. Snowshoes, maybe, but then again, Minnesota is the same state that also gave us the-times-they-are-a-changin' Bob Dylan and America's favorite meat in a can and pop culture legend, SPAM.

Locked deep in the Mesabi Range, the region was home to mining and in particular, Swedish miners, who in the early part of the 20th century found that getting to and from the mines and traveling between the towns of Hibbing and Alice were not exactly a leisurely walk in the iron ore park. One who noticed that and decided there had to be a solution to help ease the strain was Carl Wickman, a miner himself. He didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that if the miners had reliable transportation to and from the towns, at a reasonable cost, he could not only give his neighbors a helping hand, but also make a little spare change in the process. Carl could do the math, and it all added up to profits.

In 1914, Carl modified a Hupmobile that could normally accommodate 5 to 7 people, and by the time his mechanical magic act was finished it would seat 15. He then instituted a system of regular schedules for the 2 mile journey between the two towns that matched the miners schedules. For .15 cents one way or .25 cents round trip, the first route and fare were in place for what would eventually become known internationally as the Greyhound Bus Company...or simply, The Hound.

In time, the Hupmobiles were replaced by America's industrial might as the manufacture of actual buses began, and Carl Wickman's two mile route would soon explode into a network of destinations that would carry Americans across the continent for business and pleasure, as well as in times of national emergency, world war and America's battle for Civil Rights.

The race to pave the planet and cover the continent in concrete was off and running as improved roads were being added to the transportation fabric of the nation. As more roads were added, more vehicles were produced, and they rolled off the assembly lines with an insatiable appetite for even more roads. It was the asphalt and concrete version of the internet, connecting city after city and bus companies were popping up like daisies, but The 'Hound was the still the big dog on the block. Short hops and regional routes were the norm, but finally in 1927 Greyhound had completed its first transcontinental route between New York and California. East meets West...Pacific meets Atlantic...Coast to Coast...and they did it in 51/2 days. It was the Transcontinental Railroad Golden Spike of its day.

Branching Into Food The Greyhound marched on and went further and further, making it necessary for regular stops where the driver and the passengers could re-fuel themselves with food and drink. The route was littered with a patch quilt network of eateries without standardization of food quality or service, so needless to say complaints were common and numerous. To offset the possible loss of ridership and revenue that that might be caused by poor quality food and service Greyhound, in 1940, set up a network of restaurants in their terminals that would offer standardized fare to their paying passengers. These were appropriately named "Post House Restaurants", and featured the famous Stagecoach logo on the dishes.

World War II Greyhound and America had now come to terms with one another and could finally relax in each others company, at least until 1941 WWII broke out like a plague and Americans mobilized for the war effort. The troops had to be carried to various training camps across the land of democracy, and Greyhound was there and went into the troop transport business like a well oiled war machine. The war ultimately ended in victory for the Allies, and times boomed in the victorious postwar United States. Jobs were plentiful and returning GI's had some money...money enough to buy some of those Detroit dream machines with big shiny grills and fins. As car sales went up, Greyhound ridership decreased and the company became the asphalt Conestoga of the proletariat...but once again Greyhound would be called on to enter the transportation fray.

And Civil Rights Segregation battled integration in the sixties, and while southern city bus lines were still relegating backseat ridership based on skin color, Greyhound was helping aid the Civil Rights movement by hauling whole armies of Freedom Riders into the social battleground of deep rooted southern fried racism. Bus lines have come and gone....the bankruptcy courts have take their toll and still...Greyhound remains.

Visiting the Museum It may not be the silver glory hound of yore, but it is a legend nonetheless, especially at the Greyhound Museum in Hibbing, Minnesota. That's right the mobile backseat cross-country party bus company has its own museum appropriately located on East Greyhound Blvd. in Hibbing, Minnesota, it's open to the public, including the curious who've never actually traveled aboard one, as well as actual Greyhound Vets who've walked the dog and journeyed the 'Hound from coast to coast.

Inside, 'Hound history comes alive through a series of interpretive displays, collections of memorabilia and a video explaining the "History of Greyhound". The gift shop, as can be expected is fully loaded with Greyhound caps, t-shirts, cups and mugs, spoons, books and movies and my fave, model Greyhound buses. London Tower may have its prized crown jewels but at the Greyhound Museum they have the diamonds of diesel world -- actual Greyhound buses including the 1914 Hupmobile to a 1948 Silverside and the classic 1956 Scenicruiser. Add in a festival called Bus Bash and a tour to Bob Dylan's boyhood home and you have a weekend in Hibbing, Minnesota.

Greyhound bus may take the front seat when it comes to mass transportation icons, but, not too long ago, many Americans where forced to take a back seat due to the color of their skin. Next, we're visiting the bus where Rosa Parks made history.

The Rosa Parks Bus
The south of the sixties should conjure up images of friendly folks and gracious living, but for many it brings visions of mean spirited town sheriffs, German Shepard dogs on the attack and fire hoses turned on crowds to disperse them. Crosses burning on lawns, churches set on fire by cowardly figures hiding behind white-sheets and hoods. Signs at public places proclaiming "Whites Only"...."No Coloreds." The National Guard walking students into schools and Freedom Riders and Civil Rights workers being threatened, beaten, even murdered. The fires had always been smoldering but ignited in a firestorm of rebellion by one woman on a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama in 1955.

It was still a time when the first 10 front seats were reserved for white passengers only. Beyond those seats it was expected that black passengers would give up their seats to white passengers if demanded. One day on the Cleveland Ave bus it was demanded. The lone black woman, Rosa Parks refused and was consequently arrested.

This was the opening salvo of the civil rights shot heard round the world. A young minister named Martin Luther King, Jr. took up the cause and led the cities black population in a bus boycott that lasted a year and finally in 1956 bus segregation was ruled illegal by the US Supreme Court.

The times may have finally changed, but what about that bus? It was a 36 passenger diesel with hydraulic transmission that was manufactured in Pontiac, Michigan in 1948. It first saw service in Terra Haute, Indiana until 1954 and was then purchased by the Montgomery bus company, running from 1954 until its retirement in 1971. Sold as surplus to Roy Summerford in 1971, it took its place, rusting and rotting, forgotten in a field for 30 years until 2001, when it was purchased at auction by the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan.

In that time the windows had been smashed, the engine gone, rust and weather taking it's toll on the old girl. Restoration bids were taken and cost of $300,00 was partially offset by a Federal grant of $205,000 designated for a fund to protect America's treasures. The Rosa Parks bus is certainly that, an American treasure and a monument to a voice that defied the odds and in the end defeated an army of hate.

A Streetcar Named Desire
New Orleans. Hot, steamy and sultry, with a whiff of decadence to help create the Tennessee William's classic, "A Streetcar Named Desire". The tormented and t-shirted Stanley Kowalski hit the Broadway stage in 1947 but in 1951 made the celluloid jump to the big screen. Brando's bravado blazed across the screen as he stood in the streets and yelled the now famous..."STELLA!!" Kim Hunter played a sterling Stella to Brando's Stanley, but it was Vivien Leigh's Blanche Dubois that had to board the streetcar named Desire. And yes, there actually was a streetcar by that name.

As electricity ignited and lighted the streets of urban America, the horse drawn carriages gave way to the automobile for those that could afford them, and electric railway cars, or streetcars that criss-crossed a city like so many arteries and veins for the great masses of the population. In New Orleans alone, there were over 200 miles of streetcar lines, operated by the New Orleans Railway and Light Company that connected the city's residents to their businesses. One of them, Car #453, ran from Canal Street to Bourbon to Desire to Royal and back to Canal. It was called the Desire Corridor, and car #453 was the streetcar named Desire. Desire ran proudly from 1920 until 1948 when it was replaced by a bus named Desire.

Nostalgia for a flashy past, and the steamy Tennessee William's play are bringing renewed interest, but the future of that famous streetcar is still unknown. Desire was lost to the ages until someone discovered her sitting alone and forlorn at the Transit Station Streetcar Barn. Don't despair, Desire hasn't been totally forgotten in this town of Mardi Party Heartiness...there's a Stella Calling Contest ever year so a guy can still practice his Marlon machismo....STELLA!!

Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters
The Spare Change Sixties came on like a Day-Glo banshee, screaming and screeching. The counter culture on the move. The East Village and Haight Ashbury, psychedelic bookends anchored on their respective fog and smoke shrouded coasts. The ragtag army traveling by thumb, by car and in V-dub vans. One group decided it was time to load up the bus, inhale deeply and take a whole generation on a magical journey aboard a 1939 International Harvester school bus named "Further".

Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters flew over the cuckoo's nest of the tie-dyed decade by buying an old school bus and loading it up with cargo, contraband and contraptions including musical instruments, speakers, electronics, bong pipes and other necessities of a journey from one coast to the other. Ken's first novel, "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" was a success and in 1964 Ken and Company were ready to celebrate the publication of "Sometimes a Great Notion" with a cross country chemical mission of conquest.

The old school bus was painted in brilliant fluorescents with a variety of symbols, some mystic, some fun, but when viewed collectively, pure haiku. The bus was named "Further" in honor of its ultimate destination. At the helm was Captain Kesey, but in the driver's seat was non other than Jack Kerouac's real life Dean Moriarity, Neal Cassidy, gear-jamming across the black jazz asphalt night of the continent, and all the while loudspeakers were blaring and the Pranksters pranking their way across America in a journey that would become the subject matter of Tom Wolfe's The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test

In time, Ken had to hide out in Mexico, due to that controlled substance thing, and took the bus with him, but changed the name to "Furthur" to throw off authorities. The Day-Glo and fluorescents not withstanding, the plan actually appeared to work. Eventually time passed, as time will do, and Ken settled into an agrarian/literati existence on his farm in Oregon, and "Further", the proud asphalt warrior settled into a existence of rust and weeds in the back forty.

Ken Kesey died in 2001, but the bus is about to get a makeover. Zane Kesey is having his dad's bus restored to its Prankster heyday best and is gearing up for one more road trip and to go just ...a little further.

The Partridge Family
C'mon get Happy! I'll spare you the happy smiley face, but that was the song that called pre-pubescent America to the tube to oooh and ahhh at teen dream David Cassidy. The Partridge Family lip synched their way through the trials and tribulations of the pre-disco early '70's when the land was covered in a polyester glacier of bell bottoms and leisure suits, and became the television version of the Von Trapps. And entered the annals of American pop culture. Was it the redheaded Danny the Brat that drew us to the show? Shirley as Mama Partridge, all knowing and all smiling that kept us hooked?

No! It was that wild 1957 Chevrolet school bus with the post-Kesey influenced paint job that rocked our polyester socks.

"Careful, Nervous Mother Driving" was on the back license plate as the grooviest family on the tube got hip and happy aboard the pablum version of the Yellow Submarine. The Partridge Family Bus was purchased by the shows producers from the Orange County School District, given an appropriate paint job for the times, a full tank of gas and a four season run on primetime television, until the show and the bus started to get low on fuel and ratings.

The show was cancelled, everyone got on with their lives and loves, and the bus was sold numerous times to private owners for a variety of purposes. Eventually, it turned up abandoned in the parking lot of Lucy's Tacos in East Los Angeles and was officially junked in 1987.

In 1993, David Cassidy went on a nostalgia tour in a replica of the Partridge Family bus and another bus impersonator is sitting at Universal Studios. Other wannabes dot the landscape and fake Partridge buses can be found in Atlanta, Georgia and even a farm field in Iowa. It is definitely the Elvis of the bus world with more imposters and sightings than of the King himself.

The Honeymooners
Whether it's Mama Partridge or Neal Cassidy at the wheel of a bus, the bus driver is the captain of the ship on the high seas of public transportation. Whether the grey uniform of the Greyhound lines or the different colors of Metro bus drivers in cities across America, they rule the routes. The most famous bus driver of them all is forever preserved in bronze in the heart of New Yawk! New Yawk! The statue of Ralph Kramden, stands proudly in front of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey at 40th Street and 8th Ave.

America's most beloved bus driver was created during the Golden Era of television by the Great One himself, Jackie Gleason. Though the series only lasted just over a year it's made an indelible impression and will forever be imbedded in American TV tube-pop culture. Ralph Kramden, fictional bus driver, worked for the equally fictional Gotham Bus Company with offices at 225 River Street in Manhattan.

Every day Ralph would dutifully do his route, which by the way were Routes 2969 and 247, both along Madison Avenue. In addition to his bus duties, he had a wife who appeared to be the only person on the planet to actually understand this bear of a man, he was lodge member in good standing, and his best friend worked below the surface of the streets in the sewers of New York City.

Gleason died in 1987, but the image of Ralph Kramden remains, dressed in his uniform and holding his lunch pail, the 1000 pound replicated Ralph was dedicated in 2001. There is a West Coast replica as well at the Academy of Arts and Sciences, but let's face it, there's only one real Ralph and he's in New York City.

The history of the bus has its routes roots in the mines of the Upper Midwest. A city bus in Montgomery, Alabama ignited a generation, and another bus gave fuel to the Sixties and took us a little further. A street car gave us Desire and images of torn tee-shirts and a family called Partridge polyestered themselves into popdom forever. The bus is the royal carriage of the proletariat, and if Ken Kesey was the court jester, then Ralph Kramden will forever be the king.

High Plains Roadhead

Lawdogs and outlaws fill the American dreamscape with visions of the Wild West. Barroom brawls and honkytonk women, good guys and bad guys, white hats versus black hats in a battle of good and evil played out against a backdrop of the High Plains cowtowns that dotted the landscape of the Old West. Dusty trails and the heat of the sun building a thirst for whiskey and a hunger for companionship, forming a deadly combination that could erupt in a Vesuvian gun battle...resulting in a one way ticket to Boot Hill.

That is the American picture most associated with the Old West. In reality it was a hard, dusty, low-paying and bathless drama that was played out on the stage of cowtowns and mining towns that were indeed wild and wooly. Law was a thinly veiled disguise for localized corruption, and justice was dispensed with a six gun or the end of a rope. Just as Egypt has the pyramids to symbolize her past, America has the Wild West that will forever define us as a people. In this Roadhead Tour-du-Jour we'll visit Dodge City, Tombstone, and Deadwood with guns a'blazin'. So saddle up, it's time to hit the dusty trail, and don't be surprised at anything you might see along the way.

Dodge City

The longest running TV western in vast wasteland history was Gunsmoke. Every week Marshall Dillon, Miss Kitty, Doc, and the rest of the townspeople would hang out at the Longbranch Saloon and no matter what evil befell the town, by the end of sixty minutes, right had replaced wrong and good once again, with only a few commercial interruptions, triumphed over evil.

Although "Gunsmoke" was TV fiction it was based in reality on the roughest cowtown of them all, Dodge City, Kansas.

History
To understand Dodge City you have to go back to 1821 when the Santa Fe Trail opened up from Franklin, Missouri all the way to Santa Fe, New Mexico. The trail of trade was direct as could be in those days, but danger lurked behind every coyote bush on the lone prairie. Buffalo filled the grassland ocean with the sound of thunder from their hooves and America was expanding faster than the green on a Chia pet.

Fort Dodge was built in 1865 to protect the trail and its caravans. By 1871 the first settler built a sod hut and trading post for the exchange of buffalo furs not more than 5 miles from the fort. Like prolific rabbits, the settlers soon multiplied. By 1872 they had the makings of a town, and in honor of their military benefactors they named the town Dodge City.

Although the boom and bust longhorn cattle drives only lasted from 1875 to 1886, Dodge City has given the world its share of legend. The lawless nature of Dodge was caused by a large influx of cowboys ready for a good time, and a town only too eager to capitalize on that readiness. But the fact remained, there were no lawdog peace officers at the time on the payroll and the military had no jurisdiction. So, the town simply divided itself using the railroad tracks as a dividing line. To the north...no guns, no sin. To the south...anything goes. If you went to the south side of town to Front Street you were literally heading for the "wrong side of the tracks."

Gunfights were common and many a person was shot down in the street or in a saloon and buried with "their boots on" in makeshift graves in what became known as "Boothill."

The railroad eventually entered Dodge and when the conductors and brakemen had layovers they would visit the local brothels that were prevalent in the area. In order to be found by their compatriots when the trains were ready to leave and required their assistance, they simply hung their red lanterns outside the door to signal their whereabouts. Giving us the term, "red light district."

In time, the imaginary line of virtue disappeared and things were out of control. It was decided that peace officers needed to be hired, and in the course of that process Dodge City hired some of the most soon to be legendary lawdogs in history.

William Barclay Masterson, nicknamed Bat, was born in Canada in 1856 and by 1876 was serving as sheriff of Ford County, which included the town of Dodge. Another gentleman, born in Illinois in 1848 and also destined to explode in legend and lore, was serving as the town marshal at the time, Wyatt Earp. Eventually Bat and Wyatt moved on, the cattle drives slowed down and were all but gone by 1886 and Fort Dodge had already closed by 1882.

Visiting Dodge City
Today the cowboys don't race into town hellbent on debauchery, the gamblers don't prey on the unsuspecting and the brothels have all closed their doors. The tourist in search of the "Wild West" experience is the new "cowboy" that makes tracks for the infamous cowtown. Dodge City plays host to over 100,000 visitors a year from around the globe who pack the town and visit the Boothill Museum and the historic recreation of the original, long gone, Front Street, with its saloons, mercantiles and blacksmith shop. Watch your step though, gunplay in the form of re-enactments are liable to break out at any moment.

When you mosey down the new Front Street (actually north of the tracks these days rather than in its original location on the "wrong side of the tracks" to the south as it was in its high plains heyday) and the swinging doors of The Longbranch Saloon swing open, go inside and soak up history and pop culture itself. Yes, the original Longbranch was the model for the TV version on "Gunsmoke" that starred James Arness, whose character, Marshall Matt Dillion, was a romanticized fictional composite of the real life Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp. Miss Kitty? Well, anybody's guess.

Dodge City also celebrates its gun blazin' past with Dodge City Days in late July. The town fills up for days of country music, barbeques, rodeos, carnivals and crafts, dancing, and a western parade and art show. Other Dodge diversions include a tour by trolley or stagecoach, and cowboy poetry reading festivals. You can wax poetic at the passing of the Old West at the Gunfighters Wax Museum. Dodge also has mighty modified Roadhead action, and you can rev it up at the Dodge City Raceway.

One of the quirkier things about Dodge City, is that there are two interestingly named liquor stores in town and within sight of each other. One is the Wyatt Earp Liquor Store and within a block or two is the Doc Holiday Liquor Store. Two old friends still looking after each other. Overall, Doc's has my vote, as you can sit in a late 19th Century dental chair in the back of the store and have your picture taken.

Side Trips
In addition to Dodge City itself, you can also take side trips to visit Fort Dodge. Go west of town on Highway 50 towards the town of Cimarron. You'll find a pull off on the north side of the highway where you can park and walk out into the hills and see the original ruts and remains of the famed Santa Fe Trail. Go south from Cimarron on Highway 23 and you'll hit the town of Meade and the Dalton Gang Hideout and Museum, an interesting side trip to your Dodge City adventure.

Tombstone, Arizona

Tombstone was a rough and rowdy ride by anyone's standards. Sitting high on a mesa at 4,500 feet above sea level, with the Huachuca Mountains standing guard over its buried natural treasures, it was mining, not the lure of the longhorn that brought notoriety to this part of Arizona. It was such a lawless region that the newspaper was named The Epitaph, and Tombstone itself, earned the sobriquet, The Town Too Tough To Die. Now that's tough!

History
The lure of silver and ore opened the floodgates and humanity raced to the region in search of wealth, faster than water running in a sluice. As more miners and dreamers moved to the region, the need for products and goods increased, and eventually the first homes were built and businesses established to cater to the mercantile needs of the growing boomtown.

The population swelled like water in a sponge and by 1881 could boast a citizenry in excess of 6,500. Along with the boom came the obligatory battalions of bad guys, barrooms and brothels. The bad guys were certainly a colorful lot of card cheats and charlatans, but by far the most dangerous group were the "cowboys", comprised of some of the meaner spirits of the old west.

The rambunctious Johnny Ringo, the barroom brawling Curly Bill Brocious and the somewhat scared like a chicken Ike Clanton. Not abiders of law, west or east of the Pecos, these "cowboys" generally had carte blanche of the town until a gentleman by the name of Virgil Earp put on a badge and became Tombstones Chief of Police.

Legendary Fight at the OK Corral
The wheels were now set in motion. The historic and inevitable lead-filled clash between two legendary factions of the wild and crazy west was about to come to a death dealing head. The Clantons and McLowery's were used to bullying the populous around ... until Virgil Earp and his deputized brothers Morgan and Wyatt had decided that it was time for an old fashioned showdown.

They had additional and most deadly assistance from a close friend of Wyatt Earp. He was a hell bent on self destruction "lunger," gambler and dentist from Georgia, named Doc Holiday. Dying anyway, Doc was only too happy to shoot it out with anyone who might offer the opportunity. On October 26th, 1881, The Earp Faction walked determinedly to face the Clantons and soon the most famous of all shootouts of the old west took place...and was over in just 30 seconds. Although it actually took place near the OK Corral and not actually in it, the battle left some men dead in the dust and the others wounded or grazed, except for Wyatt Earp. He emerged unscathed and destined for immortality in the annals of the wild west. Dime novels, magazine articles, movies and of course, the Nifty Fifties television series starring Hugh O'Brien.

Visiting Tombstone
The dust has settled, and today, Tombstone relishes its historic past and recreates it on an almost daily basis with the fervor of a Tasmanian devil on diet pills. You can pose with lifesize cut-outs of the famed participants of the shoot-out and take your stand and your place next to Doc, as you bring down the bad guys, restore law and order and tip your white hat to the ladies.

Re-enactors re-enact to the delight of greenhorns, city slickers and tourists from around the world. Shootouts and hangin' around the saloon is a great way to enjoy Tombstone, but you might get lucky and see some double dealing, hoss thieving, cattle rustling, no good son-of-a-gun varmint hung from the highest tree around, great fun for the entire family. Gunfights, hangings, shoot-outs, too.

Guided tours aplenty here to help you journey through Tombstones past and to visit highlighted attractions with experienced guides that will regale you with tales, truth's and a myth or two with a wink of the eye. Enjoy the tour from a great choice of transportation modes including your choice of carriage, covered wagon or one of the stage coach tours that prowl the town.

Museums and displays of artifacts from those highly romanticized days, are also alive and kicking and a visit to the infamous Bird Cage Saloon is a must see stop on your visit to town. It opened as an "opera" house in 1881, the designation being a euphemism for a bawdy house. Brothel upstairs...booze and bawdy downstairs. Now that's entertainment.

The Bird Cage is allegedly where the famous verbal sparring in the learned language of Latin occurred between Doc Holiday and Johnny Ringo. Upstairs in one of those hot, humid rooms Wyatt Earp and his eventual lifemate, Josephine, held their secret liaisons. It was common in those days that the so-called "soiled doves" had to be licensed in order to practice their craft, and on display is Josephine's permit that allowed her to work in the Bird Cage brothel and her magic on Wyatt.

Don't forget to visit Boothill and enjoy the ghostly jaunt through a true gun slinging past. In addition to Tombstone, there are ghost towns to visit, drives into the mystical Huachucas, and for an extra treat, spend a night in a retro Airstreams in the town of Bisbee just to the south of Tombstone at the Shady Dell Trailer Motel with an awesome Cold War motif mixing with the wild and woolly west.

Tombstone lies in tranquil repose not far from the Mexican border. The town and its past luring tourists in search of excitement and a glimpse of our unique American Western heritage. To experience Tombstone is to experience a genuine legendary locale with a murky past chock full of wranglers, wrong doers and Wyatt Earp.

Deadwood, South Dakota

Doing Deadwood is a Wild West delight. It's up to its gun belt in Wild Bill Hickok lore and legend, and packs a fully loaded six shooter of sights and attractions guaranteed to appeal to the whole family. Water parks, go carts and casinos. Although the boom town heyday of mining is long gone, there's certainly plenty of tourist gold in them thar Black Hills.

History
Deadwood got its start during the Gold Rush of 1875, and its name from all the "deadwood" that accumulated in the gulch just outside of what eventually become the pile of debris' namesake. Gold brought miners, and in turn, the miners attracted all the elements of a bona fide frontier town -- scam artists, ladies of the night, merchants, gamblers, gunfighters, and preachers. Deadwood exploded in size with its fair share of churches, stores, saloons and opium dens. The boom didn't last long, but when it was full tilt boogie, it attracted the infamous and the famous like a giant historic magnet of destiny. The most colorful character drawn to Deadwood, and the one person whose life is celebrated on a yearly basis, is the Prince of the Pistoleers, James Butler (Wild Bill) Hickok.

Wild Bill Hickok
Born in 1837, the well coiffed Wild Bill rode into the dime novel west from his prairie roots in Illinois and created a persona and legend that invited the young guns of the west to dream of taking him on and taking him down at high noon, all in hopes of making a name for themselves and leaving their own footprints in the sands of Wild West legend.

His lawdog career was primarily in the cowtowns of Hays and Abilene, Kansas and brought his peculiar no frills, no compromise, and unconditional surrender brand of law n'order to a lawless frontier. His background also included working as a spy for the Union Army during the Civil War, a scout for fellow blonde, General George Armstrong Custer and a stint as a sideshow attraction with Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Show.

Getting on in years and eyesight failing, Bill decided to slow it down and go the gold fields and strike it rich in the Dakotas. Rumor has it that along the way he married a lady who owned a circus, and was also a lion tamer and tightrope walker, an interesting combination to say the least, and hence his reason to raise money in order to raise a family. What is known is that Wild Bill lit out for Deadwood in 1876 and so did someone else who would figure prominently in the annals of the Old West, Martha (Calamity) Jane Cannary-Burke. Tough and restless, she would be linked forever with the six gun hero, not only in life, but in death as well.

Wild Bill was playing poker in the Number 10 Saloon one day, with his customary seat-with-back-to-the-wall taken he sat with his back to the door instead. In walks Jack McCall to make his mark in the history books. Some say he was hired as part of a conspiracy to assassinate Wild Bill on behalf of the towns criminal elements, just to make sure that he had no plans of putting on a badge again and cleaning up the town. In effect, Jack McCall would become the object of Wild West conspiracy theorists worldwide and would be the first Lee Harvey Oswald.

When Bill fell lifeless to the floor on August 2, 1876, he held a pair of 8's and pair of Aces, which to this day is referred to as the "Dead Mans Hand". Today that Deadmans Hand is celebrated along with other events in the yearly Days of '76 Days and Wild Bill Days. What suit they were and what the fifth card was, is still up for debate.

Wild Bill was originally laid to rest in Ingleside Cemetery, but the town's growth eventually called for re-internment in Mt. Moriah Cemetery, where he lies peacefully today. Calamity Jane lived on throughout the west until 1903 when she died penniless in South Dakota. Her final wish was to be buried next to Wild Bill. She was.

Visiting Deadwood
History and gaming go hand in hand in Deadwood, and you won't have any trouble trying your luck at any one of numerous casinos. The Number 10 Saloon is also open and ready to open those swinging doors wide pardner, so be careful if someone deals you a pair of eights and a pair of Aces with your beer.

To get the real flavor of the era, visit the Days of 76 Museum, and try your luck at one of the gold mines that still hold just enough treasure for the tourist to be amazed and delighted, and of course, the obligatory visit to the "Boothill Museum" (every town had a Boothill. They were at the time, the equivalent of a Levittown for the dead). Re-enactments relive those exciting days and you don't want to miss the Chinese Tunnel Tour. A visit to the Wax Museum is a must on any itinerary, but the jewel of the crown is a visit to pay your respects to the Lucy and Desi of the frontier west, Wild Bill and Calamity Jane. Graves are protected these days because some tourist come to mine and pilfer souvenirs from the tombstones. (Footnote: Wild Bills original tombstone completely destroyed by souv-hunters way back in the 1880's. In 1891, a ten foot bronze statue was put in it's place and within ten years, it was destroyed too. Ah, what price fame, eh?)

History stands proudly shoulder to shoulder in Deadwood alongside miniature golf, gold panning for the kids, paintball, go carts and water slides. Outdoor enthusiasts will find plenty of hiking and camping areas. Deadwood is alive and well with activity from The Days of 76 to Kool Deadwood Nights in August, and the heavenly hog Harley meet in neighboring Sturgis every year.

Part of American History

Dodge City. Tombstone. Deadwood. Legendary locations that define the High Plains Drifter past of America. The growing pains of a nation hungry for expansion and growth and feeding that hunger with six gun justice. Today, you can journey back in time and walk in the footsteps of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly and pretend your Wyatt Earp. On the other hand I think I'd make a better Doc Holiday. See you in the saloon Pard.

Roadie

Roadie is a freelance writer who, as the muse moves him, brings his wickedly wonderful writing to OffbeatTravel. His writing style is the point where culture and chrome meet asphalt and art.

The Pinball Wizard of Oz and A Can of Spam but First...Marvin

The Roadhead's El Camino is gassed up and ready to kick asphalt in search of Roadhead Repositories of American icons and American kitsch.

We'll unfold the old Rand McRoadhead, click our ruby red heels and follow the Yellow Brick Road in Kansas to the museum of all things Oz. To borrow a phrase from Dorothy herself, "there's no place like home." If the state of Minnesota happens to be your home, then a plaid and proud Midwestern visit to a museum dedicated to a legendary canned lunchmeat is certainly in order at the World of SPAM Museum in Austin, Minnesota.

However, before we open up a can of SPAM or drop a house on the wicked witch, our first stop will be Motown, USA and a trip to one of the world's most unusual museums.

Marvelous Marvin's Mechanical Museum
Detroit, Motown, or simply The Motor City, has earned its mechanized moniker over the years with the unleashing of everything from the Model T to the Muscle Car, thanks to Henry Ford and the other auto barons. As the nation hit the roads and became a motorized society, another Detroiter by the name of Thomas Edison the King of Electricity, helped to mechanize and modernize the American home.

It's time to pass the mechanized crown to Marvin Yagoda, the Pinball Wizard of Detroit and the proprietor of one of the worlds oddest repositories of mechanical devices, sideshow oddities, coin op games and sheer neon glitz....Marvelous Marvin's Mechanical Museum.

As you enter the museum it's like getting hit in the face with a neon pie ala Soupy Sales, another Detroit icon. You are immediately surrounded by the flash of lights...the glow of neon...the sound of pinballs banging away in one of numerous vintage pinball games...look ma, no hands, maniacal mechanical banjos playing their "Deliverance" like melodies to an invisible audience. Planes fly overhead suspended from the ceiling and the gleeful sounds of kiddie car riders near the carousel drown out all possible quiet thought.

It's colorful, it's loud, it's fantastic! It's Liberace on the loose at the Monster Garage. Marvin's is located in a small shopping mall just north of Detroit, not the locale you would imagine for such a mecha-joint, but once inside this freebie museum you're transported to another world of side show freakery, animatons, and machinery. Classic turn of the century nickelodeons from a time when the well turned calf of some supple young woman enticed the male viewer to keep throwing in nickels, to the mechanical torture chamber where the Spanish Inquisition comes to life for a mere 50 cents. Whips and hot pokers shock the infidels into confession while you watch, and for another 50 cents you can activate the Electric Chair and watch the smoke emerge from the "killers" head while the chair itself rocks and rolls and the poor unfortunate victim screams in its best Little Caesar death agony.

If that's not enough fun for you, then test your skills at numerous arcade games from Pacman to any number of vintage pinball games, then top it all off with a break at the cafe with table tops that resemble gas station signs and sit, relax and enjoy the mechanized chaos that surrounds you. Admission is free and you can't afford to miss this one on your visit to the Motor City. Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum is located in Farmington Hills just north of Detroit. Visit them on line at marvin3m.com for directions and hours of operation.

The SPAM Museum
What does a bomb throwing pig and the former Soviet Red Army have in common? Simple! SPAM helped them both through WWII and you can find out all the details in America's spam-tastic SPAM Museum in Austin, Minnesota. This is the Mother Church of Lunchmeat and a tribute to an American food icon that was created in 1937 by the Hormel Company.

The SPAM museum is thousands of square feet of pure kitsch and pop culture. Appropriately located at 1937 Spam Boulevard, it quite simply is a museum in a can.

George Hormel formed his meat processing empire in 1891. As the company grew in size and diversified its product line, 1937 saw the introduction of something brand new. Meat in a can. It was originally called Hormel's Spiced Ham but that lacked the pizzazz they were looking for, so a contest was held to give it a new name, and voila. SPAM entered the lexicon of pop culture and Americana.

During WWII American GIs not only had an Uncle Sam but also an Uncle Spam. Thousands of cans of SPAM were sent overseas to feed the troops. Even the former Red Army feasted on this red, white and blue American concoction. Both Eisenhower and Khrushchev praised the Hormel Company later for their participation in the war effort. SPAM also helped out with the propaganda effort by launching Slammin' Spammy, The Bomb Throwing Pig as its war time symbol of freedom, victory and democracy.

Today as you enter the SPAM Museum you're first greeted by a smiling, waving can of SPAM with tennis shoes that looks like a Disney escapee. You're then immediately confronted with the Great Wall of SPAM, an imposing edifice of tin, comprised of over 3,300 cans of SPAM that would give the Great Wall of China a run for its money.

There are memorabilia and artifacts that document SPAM'S spicy history from the early SPAM commercials featuring George Burns and Gracie Allen to Monty Python routines about SPAM and even a must-see "SPAM Ballet."

Not only are Hormel Homeruns on display here, but some real meaty bombs as well, including Hormel Dog Dessert in a tube and Wimpy Hamburgers in a can. Hormel ads are also featured. Check out the Hormel Girls display. These were the heralders of Hormel products in the 1950s traveling the country as a good will troupe to whoop it up for their beloved SPAM. Finally, don't forget to check out the company newsletter, appropriately named "SQUEAL".

There are lots of interactive attractions and even games and trivia, not to mention a gift shop that is drop dead all things SPAM.

SPAM is a cultural icon that is firmly ingrained in the American experience. We eat it...we joke about it...in some parts of the world it is considered a Gourmet Food. Hawaii has its famed SPAM cookoff and we certainly can't be SPAMless in Seattle as that is the home of the SPAM Carving Contest. The museum is free and a must see when in Spamtown, USA. SPAM...The Other White Meat.

The Wizard Of Oz Museum
This is the part where I get to click my ruby red heels and become the Yellow Brick Roadhead as we head to Liberal, Kansas. Not only tornado alley, but also the fictional home of Dorothy Gale who got swept up in a Technicolor dreamscape of little people, flying monkeys, evil witches, a good witch and of course, a Wizard. Not to mention her teaming up with a cowardly lion, a tin man and a scarecrow, or the Larry, Moe and Curly of a magical world of altered reality created by a bonk on the head. Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk!

In the books and the movie, you're never quite sure where in Kansas Dorothy is actually from, so the town of Liberal, down near the Oklahoma border, decided to take control of the situation and proclaim Liberal as Dorothy Gale's Hometown. And why not. Liberal is as good a place as any for a Wizard of Oz Museum complete with an annual Ozfest that packs them in like Munchkins.

The Museum itself features a life size Dorothy Gale house and 5,000 square foot exhibit space with artifacts and memorabilia from the Wizard of Oz Movie. Madame Tusaud herself would stand in amazement at the wax displays of the central characters that romped through Oz. As you travel the Yellow Brick Museum Road you'll see various scenes from the film set up in diorama fashion and the Wizard himself is a sight with a phantom of the opera pipe organ reaching to the skies above. All the while, a local gingham clad "Dorothy" acts as docent and takes you on this magical tour and journey. All that's missing is Toto himself, or herself, whatever the case may be.

After your tour to this somewhat Haight Ashbury creation of a magical kingdom of flowers and Wizards, stop in the gift shop for anything Ozian from books and tapes to tee-shirts and figurines. The Wizard of Oz movie plays continuously in the gift shop so if you find yourself humming the "Yellow Brick Road" later in the day, blame it on subliminal messages.

Liberal, Kansas not only kidnapped Dorothy and Toto, but also holds the annual Ozfest that attracts the faithful from around the world. Remaining cast members still attend every year, but fewer and fewer make it as the aging process takes its toll on their numbers.

Art and culture are in the eye of the beholder and if the beholder happens to have an asphaltian sense of humour, then a can of lunchmeat can have as much beauty and meaning as the Venus de Milo, and besides Slammin' Spammy had two arms.

America is full of museums of the "odd", from tributes to toilets (yes, there is a toilet museum) to the Museum of Showgirls. Roadhead America is truly a work of art and pop culture that should be sought out and enjoyed. So click your ruby reds and repeat the words of the Pinball Wizard...."there's no food like SPAM ... there's no food like SPAM!"

Roadie

Roadie is a freelance writer who, as the muse moves him, brings his wickedly wonderful writing to OffbeatTravel. His writing style is the point where culture and chrome meet asphalt and art.

Kryptonite, Catsup and The Big Blue Ox

Look, up in the sky. It's a bird. It's a plane. Holy Superman, it's a giant catsup bottle!

Roadhead America is an asphalt landscape of attractions and statuary, some larger than others, and others claiming to be the largest yet. Gargantuan. Humongous. Godzilla-like in stature, they share the stage with the downright offbeat, sometimes bizarre, and always strange statuary of the roadside.

Two of the best examples of this are tucked away in plain sight in the heartland of the Midwest, in the state of Illinois to be exact, not only the Land of Lincoln, but also the Land of Superman and a giant tribute to a condiment.

The Giant Catsup Bottle
Is it "catsup" or "ketchup"? You say tomay-to and I say tomah-to. This condiment controversy has been raging since the word first entered the English lexicon, however, to the citizens of Collinsville, Illinois (across the Mississippi River, just east of St. Louis) it doesn't matter. What does matter is that they have the Godfather of all catsup bottles smack dab in the middle of town.

This mondo tribute to a condiment actually has very long tomato roots that stretch back to the 19th century when the local packaging plant was opened. By 1949 the G. S. Suppiger Catsup Bottling Plant was cranking out a pretty tasty and zingy catsup called "Brooks Old Original." To honor the town's most favored leafy citizen the company had a 170 foot water tower built in the shape of ... you guessed it, a sasquatchian-sized bottle of catsup.

It was the shining beacon of Collinsville until the plant closed down its Collinsville operations and moved to Indiana. It looked like the end of the catsup line for the once proud water tower. It fell into disrepair, and the property went up for sale in 1993. The old catsup looked doomed for the scrap heap. But, the bugle was sounded, and the preservation cavalry raced to the rescue in 1995 to save the tower and restore it to its original appearance. Many hours, many volunteers, and many dollars have gone into this Roadhead asphalt attraction to give it the proper maximum overdrive makeover. In August 2002, it was officially named to the National Register of Historic Places. Not bad for a water tower tribute to a vegetable, er, fruit, er... .

Since those early days of preservation the Catsupheads, as I like to refer to them, have grown in number to include fan clubs and online groups, not to mention the Annual Catsup Festival. The first fest got underway in 1999 to celebrate the towers 50th Birthday and included a classic car show with about 150 vehicles and five booths set up with souvenirs, food and drink. Attendance was estimated at 500 catsup-loving fans for this first annual event. Last year, over 300 vehicles were in the car show, with over 100 booths of goodies and 3500 to 4000 die-hard Catsupheads were in attendance.

This year's fest appears to be the icing on the cake, or at least the catsup on the hotdog, with celebrity Catsup Eating Contests, Hula Hoop Contests, food, drink and entertainment. Check out this lovable bunch of Catsup Worshippers at www.catsupbottle.com If you go there remember -- don't ask for mustard.

The Giant Superman Statue
He's been fighting for truth, justice and the American way since he flew off the pages of a comic book in 1938. A superhero born on the edge of WWII, this American icon fought Nazis, aliens and mutants from other planets, and did it all wearing a cape and leotards. By day he was disguised as Clark Kent, a mild mannered reporter for a great metropolitan daily in Metropolis...Illinois. That's right, southern Illinois to be exact near Paducah, Kentucky. Actually, Supe landed on earth near Smallville, raised by Ma and Pa Kent -- you know the story -- and eventually migrated to the town of Metropolis. That being the case, the citizens of the REAL Metropolis, in Illinois, decided to have some fun with the situation. Today, the town is the Fortress of Festival for fans of the Superdude, as well as home of the Superman Statue and Supermuseum, all on Superman Square.

In the early 70s an attempt to bring the world to Superman's home was underway with the Amazing World of Superman, but it was the gas shortage/embargo and not kryptonite that brought that plan to its knees. In 1979, Supe came to the big screen in the form of Christopher Reeve and once again, the tiny town of Metropolis was besieged with calls and inquiries. Plans were laid for festival and of course a Superman Statue. In 1986 enough money was raised to erect a 7 footer of the Man of Steel (or in this case, fiberglass). Superman, the superhero, may have been faster than speeding bullets, and impervious to their penetration, but his statue was not. Turns out, some of the locals are pretty good shots, especially with a target that large.

Something had to be done. So, in 1993, enough interest and enough money allowed the town to erect an even larger, 15 foot version of the towns most prominent, if fictional, citizen. This time, it was made of a harder, more bullet proof substance, and the Man of Steel became officially, the Man of Bronze. Today the Superman Statue stands proudly in Superman Square, near the Supermuseum which holds a couple of thousand square feet of Superman collectibles as well as artifacts from the comic books, movies and TV show.

The highlight of the year, however, is still the Superman Festival held each summer, generally the second week of June. Superfans descend on this town of 5,000 from around the world and enjoy the Superman Drama that is enacted each year, as well as a variety of kids games, entertainment, crafts and yes, Supe himself "flies" in to sign autographs. Don't be surprised, either if you rub shoulders with some of the stars of the early series who show up on occasion. Great Caesar's Ghost!

Although Superman is the focal point of the town, let it be known that the Big John's supermarket, also in Metropolis, has a 30 foot statue of their namesake that towers over Superman. Big John holds a giant bag of groceries, which might be the worlds largest Bag of Groceries -- yet another reason to visit Metropolis. That and the fact that Robert Stroud, The Birdman of Alcatraz is buried in the nearby cemetery. Although, as far as we know, no statue exist of him in town.

Paul Bunyan and the Blue Ox
States from Maine to Michigan and from Minnesota to California all claim states rights to this true American folk hero and asphalt icon of the Roadhead Empire. This plaid and proud wielder of the axe and his blue ox, Babe, have been the focus of controversy, discussion and downright argument over his origins and just who has the largest statue. And more importantly, who had the first statue of this lovable lumberjack with a heart as big as the Great Lakes.

You may ask "Who is this Paul Bunyan and why does asphalt America have such a love affair with him?" As with anything, we have to start at the beginning. According to research, and which researcher you want to believe, the Bunyan story has its roots in the French-Canadien Rebellion of 1837 against the British Crown. After the rebellion, tales were spun taller than redwoods, and from the Canadian campfires came stories, with a slight French accent, of one Paul Bunyan, a giant French Canadien comrade who helped storm the British garrison. Mighty and strong, wielding a pitchfork, along with other armaments, to lead the forces against the evil Crown of England. Eventually, the tale drifted south and the American campfires transformed this Great North hero into a lumberjack who somehow ended up with a big blue ox, named Babe (who came complete with a plug of chewing tobacco on its head between the horns). Apparently, Paul was a Copenhagen fan.

The Americanization of Paul had become pretty well established by the 1860s, and in 1915 we had our first glimpse of an image of Paul that lasts to this day. It was a characterization of a giant lumberjack depicted on the sales pamphlet of a lumber company that strangely took on the appearance of verbal descriptions of the mighty axe wielder. Coincidence? I think not. Eventually, books, articles, magazines, all came in tribute to the Axe Wielding Wonder. However, no tribute is more fitting than the numerous Bunyan statues that dot the Roadhead landscape of asphalt America.

Nobody knows for sure which state can lay claim to Paul's birthplace, that is, his USA place of birth. Ignoring his French Canadien origin, Mainers claim he's from Bangor, or Bangah as the local's pronounce it. Minnesotan's claim he's a Norwegian lumberman and was born in Bemidji. Myself, being a native Michigander, prefer think that he was born in The Great Lakes state. After all, somebody had to dig out those giant lakes. The only thing certain from all the research is that he lived sometime between "the period of The Winter of the Blue Snow" and "The Spring that the Rain came up from China." Whenever that occurred.

There are numerous Pauls across the continent -- some of plaster, some of concrete, and even one made completely of auto parts in, where else, Michigan -- but I'll mention just a few to show its diversity. In Michigan, for example there is a Paul and Babe as you exit the Macinac Bridge and enter the wonderful world of the Upper Peninsula. He looks more like a bouncer at a bar than a greeter of tourists but he'll have to do. Oscoda, Michigan is supposedly the "true" birthplace of Paul Bunyan. James MacGillivray author of one of the earliest Paul Bunyan story is buried here in the local cemetery, while Paul graces the east side of Highway 23 in a little park close to the shore of Lake Huron. He's usually dressed with a string of Christmas lights year round, because the locals simply forget or refuse to remove them. Also in downtown Oscoda, there's a bonus statue on the west side of the highway. It's a store that usually has a full sized Alf statue dressed in holiday motif to promote various sales. Sometimes Alf just kicks back in a Hawaiian shirt.

There is a talking Paul in Klamath, California at the Trees of Mystery, not too far south of the Oregon border. It's quite possibly the world's largest Paul Bunyan too. He measures out at 49 feet tall and weighs in at a svelte 30,000 pounds. His shoes alone are ten feet tall and he obviously listened to Teddy Roosevelt when he said speak softly and carry a big stick. Paul's axe handle is a dandy 24 feet in length. As you exit your vehicle and head for the entrance, you stand dwarfed by a gigantic talking lumberjack who towers over the parking lot entrance. Yeah, I know, it's guy hiding with a microphone but just go along with it and don't spoil it for the kids.

The most unusual Paul, however, again is in Michigan, the automotive capital. It's fitting and proper then that in the peace, love, groovy, spare change 1960s a sculptress and welder teamed up to create a Paul made entirely of Kaiser automotive parts, including bumpers, hoods and chrome. Oh my! It has seen sentry duty on the roof of a Northern Michigan gas station to the front yard of a realtors office and now attends classes at Alpena Community College, standing guard on the campus. Paul has been a student here since 1998 still working on his Doctorate.

The American Roadhead asphalt landscape has become dwarfed by these giant icons of the roadside. Paul Bunyan has become the Elvis of statuary with sightings of him from Maine to Washington, and as far south as Arizona.

If you would like to report a Paul Bunyan statue sighting along with reports of other unusual asphalt attractions you've enjoyed contact our Queen/Publisher here at Offbeat Travel. Photos are welcome too. Also, if there's a particular Roadhead roadside peculiarity you've heard of and want us to track it down, let us know, and we'll follow its trail and try to report on it in our next column.

Enjoy the road... and Kick Asphalt!

Roadie

Photo supplied by Michael Gassmann from The Worlds Largest Catsup Bottle at www.CatsupBottle.com

Cool Caddys and Rusty Relics

Combine the elements of asphalt and chrome, and you end up with one nitromethane fuel-injected work of art. We're talkin' real garage-style Guggenheim stuff.

America has always been addicted to asphalt and autos. Originally, the Detroit metal masters of machinery turned out pretty simple transportation to satisfy the growing motoring needs of an industrial nation entering a phase of horsepower puberty. A nation hell bent on going somewhere, anywhere, fast, faster, and faster still.

Eventually, there was an intersection of speed and style, and in the 1940s the cars started to get a little class, and in the process, the mechanics of The Motor City were turning into the Monets of Motown.

In 1949 fins first started to appear on cars thanks to one of GM's top designers, Harley Earl, the Liberace of auto design. He was so impressed by the P-38 fighter's fin aerodynamics he placed them on the 1949 Caddy, and the semi fabulous decadent decade of Fin Worship and Fin Envy began. It culminated in 1959 when Caddy once again out did all the competition with monster fins a whopping 41 inches tall.

Cadillac Ranch
The stylin' days that left us in a metallurgical haze have disappeared, along with those magnificent fins, but Caddy-philes can still get a good dose of fin mania by visiting The Cadillac Ranch, located in the Panhandle Region of Texas, just west of Amarillo.

The idea came to Stanley Marsh decades ago to do something with an old wheat field lying just off the interstate, that was, at one time Route 66.

Then along came the Ant Farm, a collective of artisan anarchists from San Francisco, and the idea for Cadillac Ranch was conceived. Today these grand daddy Caddys are visible from the highway and can be visited by using the service road between exits 60 and 62 off I-40. You park your car on the side of the road and begin a short walking trek to the Garage Mahal of Texas. Admission is free, it's open all year.

The Caddies are nose down in the ground as though they were propelled by some unseen galactic force from above, landing in Texas and not the more alien friendly Roswell. Cadillac Ranch seems to run the gamut of Cad-dom too. Most years are represented starting with the 1949 Club Coupe called the Sedanette. Other years and models represented include a 1950 Series 62 sedan, 1954 Coupe de Ville, a 1956, 1957 and 1958 sedan, a 1959 Coupe, and a 1960, 1962 and 1963 sedan.

Cadillac Ranch is a true Roadhead must see and if you do, look on one of the rear tires of the 5th Caddy from the front, it says Roadheads Kick Asphalt! I have no idea who put it there.

The Ghost of Route 66
In addition to the Ranch itself, is the fact that you can also explore the Ghost of Route 66, the famed Mother Road of Steinbeck's America, as it winds through downtown Amarillo. Great area with tacky souvenirs and memorabilia shops. If you're looking to spend the evening in Amarillo, make it to the Big Texan Motel and Steakhouse. One of the original Route 66 stops, it since has been moved to take advantage of the interstate traffic, but retains some unique original signage. You can't miss the place either, it has a huge cow in the parking lot that towers over the gift shop and just off to the corner of the parking lot is the Tornado Museum that is chock full of twisted twister metal from various unlucky locations throughout Tornado Alley. If your feeling hungry and lucky, try to down the 72 ounce Big Texan steak with trimmings.

Carhenge
Chrome and culture also go hand in hand in one of the Great Rectangle States of the Midwest -- Nebraska. Not only is it the land of the Cornhuskers but also the location of one of America's quirkier chrome-magnon erections. Of course, we're talking about Carhenge a conglomeration of chrome high culture just off Highway 87 about 2 and half miles north of the town of Alliance. Patterned after the original Stonehenge in Jolly Olde, it's the metal off-spring of its Brit cousin. The original Stonehenge, for historical background, was a Druid built stone enclave that consists of numerous stones and was built around 3200 to 1200 B.C.

The main difference between Carhenge and Cadillac Ranch is that instead of a rag tag army of artists, the inspiration came from a week long family reunion back in the late 1980s. As the clan gathered at Jim Reindeers farm for whoopin' and hollerin' they came up with the idea of putting old cars, a la, Stonehenge on the property. But rather than nose down into the ground these old rusters are planted trunk down. The vehicular work of art was painted a uniform gray to give it that Stonehenge look and sort of feel.

Although the city fathers were at first somewhat reluctant to give it their tourist stamp of approval, today it is one of Nebraska's top attractions, with over 80,000 Roadheads a year making the pilgrimage. What's more, there's a growing crop of auto art and sculptures beginning to show up on the farm, including a giant salmon made entirely of auto parts. Other works of art are being solicited for inclusion in this one of a kind Roadhead find.

More Roadhead Action
There are other sites and sights to behold in America devoted to the American Dream Machines. Litto's Hubcap Ranch in California (see Travel Shorts ), a gentleman in Salem, Illinois who raises chrome bumpers in the back forty and calls it The Bumper Crop, as well as the traditional Auto Museums that dot the landscape from Henry Ford Museum of Transportation in Dearborn, Michigan to the Big Daddy Don Garlit's Museum of Drag Strip Racing in Florida.

America is also full of other oddities and wonders from mechanical museums, giant water tower catsup bottles and giant Mr. Peanut statues, not to mention the plethora of Paul Bunyan and her Babeness, The Blue Ox, that dot the continent from Maine to California. If you'd like to share some of your sightings of Roadhead Oddities and/or photos (the stranger the better) or want us to find out about a particular asphalt attraction contact our Publisher/Queen here at OffbeatTravel. Now, get on the road and Kick Asphalt!

Roadie

Roadie is a freelance writer who, as the muse moves him, brings his wickedly wonderful writing to OffbeatTravel. His writing style is the point where culture and chrome meet asphalt and art.

Photo by Jenny Wood of Motel Americana

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