As you drive on Interstate 40 through the middle of nowhere, a thousand miles from the bright lights of civilization, you suddenly hit a big city. You ease into it gradually, with gas stations and the Big Texas Steak Ranch and a La Quinta Motor Inn bolstered against the flatness, and don't realize that it's actually a city until you've crossed several miles, with banks and Dairy Queens and mattress shops and small square houses where, you think in amazement, people actually wake up every morning, ready for another day in Amarillo.
Amarillo means "yellow" in Spanish, but nothing is really yellow. It's more a drab, sunbaked dust.
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You pass an Olive Garden, a Red Lobster, a Red Roof Inn, with no indication that this is anywhere in particular. It could be Utah or Ohio or Maine. There's a mall, a Home Depot, and a Wal-Mart, and then suddenly it's over, you're in the desert again. You've gone through the whole town, and there was never a "there."
There are six high schools: Palo Duro, Caprock, Amarillo, Tascosa, Randall, and the Richard Milburn Academy; and a community college.
There's also a sculpture consisting of ten cadillacs buried nose-first in the sand.
And a statue called the Second Amendment Cowboy. (That's the one about the "right to bear arms."
The Museum of Art's current exhibit is called "Burning Ring of Fire: Cast Iron Art from Tucumcari, New Mexico."
The Kwahadi Museum of the American Indian features the work of Rev. Thomas E. Mails, a Lutheran minister from Minnesota who published 14 books on Native Americans.
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Amarillo is also home to Cal Farley's Boys Ranch, a "Christ-centered" ranch for at risk boys aged 5 to 18. It's been reeling from allegations from former residents of decades of abuse: dragged behind a horse, 60 lashes with a whip, a ruler to the genitals, forced sexual acts with staff and older boys. The current staff has apologized, but they still named a dorm after one of the worst abusers.
My advice: keep driving.
But just in case you have to stay, let's look for examples of Amarillo beefcake.
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1. The Palo Duro Dons cross country team. "Dons" as in the Spanish word for "Mr.," with a mustachioed mascot reminiscent of Zorro.
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2. Caprock Wrestling.
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3. The Tascosa Rebels swim team. At least, the one guy on a team full of girls.
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4. Amarillo crossfit.
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5. Amarillo boy scout.
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6. Amateur Bodybuilder of the Week #161: Lance from Amarillo.
I still think I'll keep driving.
Amarillo means "yellow" in Spanish, but nothing is really yellow. It's more a drab, sunbaked dust.
You pass an Olive Garden, a Red Lobster, a Red Roof Inn, with no indication that this is anywhere in particular. It could be Utah or Ohio or Maine. There's a mall, a Home Depot, and a Wal-Mart, and then suddenly it's over, you're in the desert again. You've gone through the whole town, and there was never a "there."There are six high schools: Palo Duro, Caprock, Amarillo, Tascosa, Randall, and the Richard Milburn Academy; and a community college.
There's also a sculpture consisting of ten cadillacs buried nose-first in the sand.
And a statue called the Second Amendment Cowboy. (That's the one about the "right to bear arms."
The Museum of Art's current exhibit is called "Burning Ring of Fire: Cast Iron Art from Tucumcari, New Mexico."
The Kwahadi Museum of the American Indian features the work of Rev. Thomas E. Mails, a Lutheran minister from Minnesota who published 14 books on Native Americans.
My advice: keep driving.
But just in case you have to stay, let's look for examples of Amarillo beefcake.
1. The Palo Duro Dons cross country team. "Dons" as in the Spanish word for "Mr.," with a mustachioed mascot reminiscent of Zorro.
3. The Tascosa Rebels swim team. At least, the one guy on a team full of girls.
I still think I'll keep driving.