Day Two of the intrepid journey brings us to OKC. Like I said yesterday, I’ve got lots of fam up here. Unfortunately, I can’t catch up with them. After a loooong time in the car, we’re tarrred.
Why tired? Because the stretch of Interstate 40 between Flagstaff and OKC is the most desolate stretch of road ever.

So we hit the road about 6:30a. We were making decent time until another one of those casino detours. This one comes with an interesting story, though.
We got to the Route 66 Casino is Rio Puerco, New Mexico around noon or something. I’m really not sure. We walked in to play a dub worth of blackjack and see what their buffet was talking about.
But Rio Puerco ain’t Vegas. It ain’t even Laughlin. Shit, it ain’t even Kinder, Louisiana. The casino is really a room with a few ways to gamble. We walked in and sat down at a table with two people at it and started to play. ‘Twas a man and a woman, and the man had a seriously busted lip. Generally, it’s not a good sign to see a cat in a casino in the middle of the afternoon with a busted lip. That leads me to believe that he “works” at the Route 66, but he had no name tag. Get it?
Anyway, I played and lost mine. Kirk got up more quickly than I did. Seems he was a bit skeptical of the dealer’s string of 18s, 19s, 20s, and 21s. After the game, Kirk told me something interesting. It seems that the couple–who were advising each other during the games, which I’m pretty sure can get your legs broken at the caps–began to stare at me and whisper to each other when I sat down.
Look–this was fuckin’ Rio Puerco, New Mexico. I was there on a road trip. They were there for “work.” Who should really be whispering?
Racism–it’s fantastic!
So we then jump back on the road looking for something to eat. Did you know there is not a single sit-down restaurant on 40 between Flagstaff and OKC? Really, not a single one. The largest city before OKC was Albuquerque, and we couldn’t find anythin better than Subway after driving for more than a half hour. I mean not a damn thing. I see no reason to keep New Mexico in the union. Let’s trade it for Old Mexico. You can get silver at good prices down there.
You have no idea how desolate the road is during this stretch. I’m trying to find a way to explain the nothingness, but most of you know how difficult it is to affirm a negative. Just know this–keep a full tank of gas.
Wait, I figured out how to explain it. There are exits during the stretch with no street name attached. You normally see signs that say “Exit 238, Main St.” Man, we saw more than one exit sign that said, “Exit 330.”
That’s it. Does the road have a name? What am I exiting onto? What’s really going on?
But that’s done. The kuntree stretch of the drive begins. But since I don’t update on weekends–mainly because most of you read at work–I guess we’ll pick this up on Monday. Or maybe tomorrow. I just hope to get to my house before Texas beats Dook tomorrow in basketball.