Reasons I love Texas--Part 5--Two Studebaker Sunday

A Vietnam vet's memorial on the outskirts of Shamrock, Texas, with Studebaker

I love Studebakers

If you slow down...get off I-40 and take the old US 66 exit at Shamrock in the Texas Panhandle, and drive leisurely down the old mother road.
I did that last Sunday, ahead of schedule before stopping in Canyon. I love back roads, and the memories they provoke. Shamrock is known for its art-deco US 66 gas station buildings and more, but on the fringes of this town are boarded up windows, mechanic shops, old gas stations and more.

Such class

Out of the corner of my eye I saw an old Studebaker rusting away in an automobile junkyard, went past it, turned around and went back to take photos. When you drive through a small town on Sunday there's almost no traffic. 

Edsel graveyard

Understand that my first car was a Studebaker, and I've driven one and ridden in one on US 660 and parts of unfinished I-40 as a college freshman from Albuquerque to OKC years ago.  I've been in love with them ever since. There I also found the largest collection of old Edsels I've ever seen, a Hudson, a Corvair, and an old, old Ford, plus more.
Imagine if those cars could talk and  tell their stories, of their drives and roads they'd traveled and places  they'd been.

After taking those  photos, I headed on west and passed another later model Studebaker, next to another old Ford. This was outside a mechanic's shop, with a display that tells me he is a Vietnam vet, because it's also flying the American and POW/MIA flag.

It was a two Studebaker Sunday in Shamrock--more reasons I love Texas. 

*

Here's my poem for you: 
"Once there was a fellow, a raker
Who told his beautiful wife and homemaker
He'd never, ever forsake her,
If he could just buy a Studebaker."
 

Can you imagine the stories?

Astounding on July 4

"What was the most astounding thing you saw today," asked my wife Susan, about my drive into eastern Oklahoma County on July 4. I started to say nothing really...I'd gone to take photos of flags and a wooden caboose, and just to hunt. I came back with some photos, but nothing really remarkable, except time to myself to think and look.

But then it hit me. I was driving south on Sooner Road and turned west the wrong way on 36th Street. I went over the Canadian River bridge and came to something unexpected...a Buddhist temple. I drove by determined to turn around and take a photo, and at the corner, not a quarter mile from the temple was a Baptist church in Forest Park.

I thought... this symbolizes  what July 4 is all about... not a "Christian" nation, but a nation where people of all or no faiths can be welcome. People who are independent, and are free to follow their beliefs. Then I drove south to 23rd Street , through Spencer and Choctaw and east until I'd come to Harrah, giving up on finding anything else.

And there, getting ready to turn around, I saw the second most remarkable thing of the day in front of me. At the Harrah postoffice, Old Glory waves, but right under it was the POW MIA flag. It always attracts me, but you don't see many in this state...usually on homes of Vietnam vets who've lost buddies long ago. In New Mexico you see them everywhere, including over your head as you walk out of the Albuquerque airport. But here, in Harrah, some patriots have given the flag official designation.
Independence Day!