On the Road Again . . .

Patti making her mark at Amarillo’s famous Cadillac Ranch.

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

When I went West this summer, I knew that I was going to be gone for a minute. I literally loaded up like the Beverly Hillbillies and took every accoutrement I thought I might possibly need for the foreseeable future and took off. It was a lot.

Two weeks into my Western hiatus, an unexpected tragic turn of events brought me home – along with all of my belongings. Now y’all know I love Texas, but after 14 days of milder temperatures – which resulted in milder temperaments in yours truly – I was not thrilled to cross back over into the Lone Star State, also known as Dante’s Inferno this particular summer. This Texas summer is truly indicative of what hell must be like, so much so that I vowed to amend my wicked ways post haste lest I end up there.

After four long, sweltering, oppressive days in my beloved home state, I rounded up Cee Cee and convinced her to head back West with me. It didn’t take much convincing; she was as miserable as I was in the stifling summer.

Cee Cee and Patti at The Paramount Recreation Club, the speakeasy at the The Barfield in Amarillo.

Always up for an adventure, we decided to Thelma and Louise it since I was toting a plethora of my this and that back with me for the next couple of weeks, and after all, we had nothing but time. We decided to overnight in Amarillo, so I commenced to finding us a place to stay indicative of our adventuresome and particular natures. Up for the challenge I found it square in the middle of downtown Amarillo – who know there was a downtown Amarillo? – in a boutique luxury hotel that embodied the heritage and culture of the Texas Panhandle. Yep, heritage and culture in Amarillo, Texas. And best of all, the hotel had an underground speakeasy with a secret entrance with cigarette machine access and a guy named Johnny who guarded the door as the joint only allowed a certain number of patrons. And when they hit that magic number, well Johnny was the gatekeeper, and there was no room at the inn.

We got had ton of fun at the Barfield, drank curious and mysterious concoctions, got in a nominal amount of trouble and headed out to the Cadillac Ranch the next morning where we saw the infamous Cadillac art installation. Ten Cadillacs are buried nose first in the Texas Panhandle for public viewing, and let’s just say “art” is a term I’ll use loosely as the vehicles have been so vandalized with spray paint over the years the tribute has been lost over time. Now I know many folks will say that’s part of the “art” of it, but I would rather see the beauty of the artistry of the cars in that particular configuration than the tags of “Jesse loves Kim” and such in 6” thick spray paint. But as they say, when in Rome.

We finally got out of triple digit weather and got back to where we could breathe and roll along with the windows down radio blaring. I’d say all in all, the trip was a success. We saw multiple curiosities. Neither one of us went to jail – that sentiment is mostly for me, and I’m certain Cee Cee will corroborate. We giggled way too much. We solved everyone’s problems. We ate way too much junk food. Same for drinking copious amounts of alcohol. We made memories along the way – the ones we can remember that is. We hiked up a mountain and saw a glorious waterfall. I saw Jesus twice. Yes, Cee Cee nearly killed me. We made lots of new friends. We’re fun like that. Yep, we did it all and have the pictures to prove it. That’s the way a girlfriend’s road trip should be.

I’m not sure when I’ll make it back to Texas. I’ve sent for Mr. Kaminski. It wasn’t a hard ask. He’s ready to leave the sizzling, scorching summer for a brief respite. To my Texas friends, stay cool! See y’all next week – on the porch!



Patti Parish-Kaminski

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