Late Sunday, after a wonderful early am photo shoot involving this four legged cutie and getting the last of our goods moved from our former town, we were exhausted and ready for a relaxing ride. The warmth from the pavement was sweltering after a full day of heat related nausea, muscle aches, and overwhelming weariness, but the sun was setting behind us as we headed for Route 66. By the time we reached the lake area, the sun had left only its final light while the cools of the bottoms crept in.
Among the most beautiful feelings in life is the sudden, sometimes chilling, cool rush as the road dips and you pass a lake, pond or river on a motorcycle. Your nostrils are suddenly alert and wide to the change and the slightest sensation of goose bumps runs across your skin.
For Josh’s birthday we have a tradition of hitting a greasy spoon in celebration just as we have a tradition of camping for my birthday. We’re easily contented, what can I say. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time while we were shuffling the last of our move around to hit any diners we know, and since we haven’t tested any in the OKC area for the cowboy quality of their coffee yet, we opted for what we know, one of our favorite haunts – Pops.
I have a deep seated love of Route 66 for all it represents and Pops is a wonderful example of all those things which come to mind when one thinks of Mother Road Americana, from the wonderfully kitschy giant sixty-six foot lighted soda bottle to the amazing burgers that are none too gourmet nor standard and bland. They fall in that glorious middle ground reserved for thick beautiful patties and fresh simple toppings only found in fuss free small town burger joints.