Getting Some Kicks

We headed up to Pomona today for the 58th Annual California RV Show. It was pretty disappointing, to be honest. Since we already have our trailer, we went mainly in hopes of checking out some peddlers of various wares we might need while on the road. To our dismay, there were hardly any vendors there.

Since we didn't spend much time at the show, I decided to take Steve and the kids on a fun little trip.

First we stopped at No Sugar Added in Claremont, my favorite purveyor of cloth diapers, wooden toys, and other such articles.

Then I had everyone pile into the car to go on a little trip down Foothill Boulevard, part of old Route 66.

First stop was to see the Madonna of the Trail, which I wrote about in a recent post. Sure enough, she was right there at Foothill and Euclid. I really don't know how I missed her all those times, but, in my defense, she stands on the center median of the Boulevard off to one side, not right on a corner. I always drove past her, rather than toward her.

I left Steve and the kids in the car while I went to get some photos.



I wanted to try to get a photo of myself with her, but there were no available pedestrians around. I'm a big fan of pointing one's camera at oneself with outstretched arms, but there were a ton of cars waiting at the lights, and I was sure the drivers were all staring at me, which made me too self-conscious to try.

Then it was off to the Wigwam Motel!

I had driven there twice before. The first time was my freshman year of college, late at night, when my friend and I were starving. We were sick of Taco Bell, and Denny's had an inexplicably long wait that night. There weren't too many other dining options at midnight in Claremont back then, so we decided to drive until we found something.

My sense of direction isn't that great, so I headed toward what I thought was Ontario Airport. Instead, we drove and drove and drove down Foothill Boulevard--encountering no open restaurants--until we reached San Bernardino, about 30 miles away. At that point we resigned ourselves to two facts: This wasn't the way to the airport, and we weren't eating until morning.

I turned the car around only to notice a ring of giant teepees in front of me. I knew of the Wigwam Motels, but I had no idea they were right there! I vowed to go back another time, preferably in daylight.

A year or two later, on a day I had nothing else to do, I drove out there again. I wanted to see the teepees, but I also wanted to drive farther down, just to find more evidence of Route 66's heyday.

The area is built up now, but once in a while, between newly constructed strip malls and housing tracts, you can glimpse indications of the past. There are some tiny old buildings--some abandoned, some still in use--ancient motels boasting "Color TV!",  and the occasional signs in googie-architecture style.

So that day, back in college, I decided I'd drive until it got dark. But I underestimated how long it would take to get to the Wigwam Motel, and by the time I made it, the sun was going down. A little ways up ahead was a rail yard with a giant smoke stack that freaked me out, so I turned around and went home. (I have a fear of tall lurking objects.)

Today I had no intention of trekking farther than the Wigwams (which, yet again, took longer to get to than I imagined), but this time I was going to stop and check them out.

For many years the motel was extremely seedy and actually embraced that image, boasting a sign suggesting that people "do it in a teepee." However, I had read that new owners had recently renovated the place and tried to make it more family-friendly.

When I pulled in, the manager, a young guy, came walking up to the car. I thought he was going to tell us to leave if we weren't staying there, but instead he offered to let us look around and even showed us the inside of one of the teepees.

I have to say that the room, the grounds, and the pool were impeccable. Elias, of course, was thrilled that they looked just like the Kozy Kones from Cars.



We talked with the manager for a while and walked around a bit. We told the guy that we'd love to stay there sometime, and we weren't just giving him lip service. We really do want to stay there. Who wouldn't want to sleep in a big, old, historic teepee? (I did not see any signs imploring us to "do it" in one.)

Next time we go back (hopefully soon) we will stay there for a night or two. Maybe we'll make it down a bit farther on Route 66, because I would like to see some more relics of the era. Steve will have to drive, though, because of that big lurking smoke stack.