LA or Bust via Route 66, the adventure continues: The End is Near But Still Things to See

Almost glad to be leaving Gallup behind.

Not that there's anything wrong with Gallup, but the ordeal of getting there from the VLA is one I’d rather leave in the rearview mirror.

Crossing into Arizona filled me with hope. The promise of small towns—or at least their remnants—was enticing. First up was Lupton, but that hope quickly started to fade. To put it kindly, Lupton was mostly a collection of tourist traps where locals sell their wares, many of which had that unmistakable “made in China” look. The parking lot was packed with cars sporting license plates from all over the country. Thankfully, my mud-caked car made it impossible to tell where I was from. As P.T. Barnum once said, “There’s a sucker born every minute,” and the enterprising Navajo vendors seem to have fully embraced his philosophy.

Trying to be incognito

Further along, I arrived in Allentown and stumbled upon an abandoned section of Route 66—what I like to call a “broken link.”

This stretch of the road was severed from the main route about a mile east of town, leaving it accessible but hidden behind the “Trading Post.” The road is incredibly narrow—about 9 feet wide—and along it, I discovered a charming old house and met Chaney, a 90-year-old Navajo woman. She lives at the end of the road and walks into Allentown daily. She was delightful to chat with, but she refused to have her picture taken. I know what you’re thinking—why not just take it when she wasn’t looking? One of my rules is to always ask permission, and if someone says “no,” I respect their wishes. Even without a photo, Chaney left a vivid impression.

Chaney's road. About 9 ft wide.

Old House near Allentown.

Leaving Allentown, I found Route 66 flooded out and had to backtrack to I-40. I rejoined the route at Chambers, a town notable only for its post office and a few abandoned buildings.

Old House with Dead Tree at Chambers

Chambers Gas Station. Lives up to the first part of it's name.

Next was Holbrook, where I met Joseph of the Santo Domingo tribe. He was quite the character and had no qualms about having his photo taken—in fact, he seemed thrilled about it.

Joseph

Came to Joseph City, no relation to Joseph of Holbrook.

Afterward, I stopped in Joseph City. Why it’s called a city is beyond me—it’s more like a hamlet. Main Street (the only street, really) features several abandoned buildings, but not much else.

Adobe style in Joseph City

Then came Two Guns. Yes, that’s the actual name. This place made my day. Its claim to fame dates back to around 1881, and the town was built on the edge of Canyon Diablo. When I pulled into what remains of the gas station, I noticed someone actually waiting for service. I thought about telling them the place was closed but figured it wasn’t worth the effort as it would probably just fall on deaf ears.

Should someone tell it the garage is closed

Where have all the people gone?

The Wild Animals were kept here on display. Not kidding, they actually had wild critters on view.

My last stop for the day was Seligman, just off I-40 and about an hour west of Flagstaff. Now, this is a Route 66 town that’s managed to keep the buzz alive.

Not all Route 66 towns dried up and died. Seligman sure didn't

The drive from Seligman to Kingman was beautiful. Along the way, I passed through Hackberry, home to the quirky and fascinating “Hackberry General Store.” It’s a treasure trove of curiosities, from bleached cow skulls to vintage Model T-era cars. Even though the place wasn’t technically open, it’s a must-stop for anyone passing by.