Yesterday was so full that I decided to take a day off from writing AND split it into two posts. So for a while, these will be a bit behind.
Finally dragged myself out of bed early enough to see the sunrise, and it was a doozy!
Also, the ants that survived our onslaught had moved on to sandier pastures. Humans:1 Nature:0
Took a 2.5 mile walk around the campground and found an authentic pioneer outpost.
You can barely make them out, but there are at least 8 deer faces poking out of the underbrush, perfectly still, staring straight at me. It was like a Magic Eye poster.
Some cool signage just outside the campground.
We got back on the road at 11ish and stopped at Walmart #3 in Yukon, OK (hometown of Garth Brooks!) for refueling and fridge restocking.
We arrived in El Reno, OK around 2:30 for a late lunch.
We were a week too late for the Fried Onion Burger Festival, which centers around the cooking (and hopefully eating?) of a 750-lb onion burger, and the Main Street area was quiet but cute.
Oklahoma onion burgers are crisp-fried patties of a little meat and a LOT of shredded onion. Popularized during the Depression, the cook who invented it supposedly smashed a half-onion’s worth of shreds into every five-cent patty. We of course did our due diligence and decided on Johnnie’s, one of the three diners in El Reno legendary for their onion burger.
The burger was great but the onion rings really stole the show. The Frito Chili pie was a junk food lover’s dream and a bathroom janitor’s nightmare.
A block away, we visited a darling little bakery that does exquisite modern wedding cake designs and a few take-away dessert items. We got a slice of cheesecake and a PB Brownie to split. Unsurprisingly, they were pretty danged great.
El Reno is obviously trying to attract more tourism, with Lime scooters everywhere, a hip boutique or two, and public art installations like this cool graffiti alley, but it was nearly empty of people and there were a lot of closed businesses and empty storefronts. It’s a really sweet little town so I hope that once more tourism starts back up, it’ll find it’s way.
A ways further west, we stopped at the Cherokee Trading Post, which has pretty standard souvenir shop fare, but is notable for being in continuous operation since 1963. There’s also a giant Native man statue, but you quickly find that Giant Man Statues of all persuasions are a common Route 66/I-40 motif.
Say “tourist!” (They actually are!)
In the trading post parking lot we asked the driver of this truck what he was hauling...
It’s a generator for one of these wind turbines!
As we neared the Texas border, we were cutting it close to “closing hours” of the Sandhills Curiosity Shop in Erick, OK. We saw this place on Roadside America and due to its legendary/infamous status, Mom & Dad had seen it on a couple documentaries/travel shows. It’s billed as “a shop where nothing is for sale and its greatest curiosities are its owners, Harley and Annabelle, ‘The Mediocre Music Makers.’” Reviews online from previous visitors from around the world also tout Harley as a laugh riot and one of the last vestiges of authentic Route 66 culture. Naturally, we were VERY anxious to see this place. We screeched into a parking spot down the street and speed-walked over. What luck! The hours posted on Google were meaningless and Harley was inside playing guitar. We stepped inside... you know what they say about being careful what you wish for?
Harley is indeed a character. Sadly, his wife Annabelle passed from cancer in 2014, but her presence and influence on the “shop” is still very tangible. The elaborate posters she created for visiting tour groups are stacked in huge piles and her paintings and drawings are tucked everywhere. I can only assume that the collecting was mostly her passion, as well, since Harley seemed fairly dismissive of the “stuff” and if we expressed interest in looking at anything or asking about items, he’d quickly try to distract us with (VERY) off-color humor, good-natured ranting, and performances both oratory and musical which he frankly demanded be filmed. All while high as a kite and drunk as a skunk. Tipping is highly encouraged and seems to be how he makes his living.
Almost an hour later, we emerged in somewhat of an exhausted daze. Mom said it best — “I kept hoping he’d stop acting and just talk to us.” Harley will make you laugh, but you might not be entirely sure why, or whether your laughter is conciliatory or simply confused. I’m glad we stopped, and Harley doesn’t owe anyone a piece of his authentic self, but there’s a manic performative-ness and an understandable sadness that has tempered the good-time laid-back vibe that this place seems to once have had. Wait... did we just discover a near-perfect encapsulation of the American Experience? Or maybe we just caught him on a bad day.
I hope you enjoyed this edition of Real Talk with Reba. Don’t forget to submit your nominations for my Pulitzer Prize.
Part two tomorrow - a stay on a working cattle farm in Texas!
