You know all those brochures that sit in the lobby of every motel and hotel that advertise great things to do or things to buy in the area you are staying? Well, Peter and I fell victim to one of those and so our first destination on July 5th, was the Airline History Museum located at the downtown Kansas City airport. This airport is used mainly for communter flights and private flights.
The museum, actually a hangar, is run by passionate historians of aviation. Kansas City was the original home of TWA, which stood for Transcontinental and Western Airways. The museum has three rooms of artifacts of long gone era of American Aviation. Here's something that attendents of flights had to be wary of.
Watch out when you go to the bathroom!
The main part of the tour was to see the restored planes the museum has purchased and has volunteers working on restoring. There is a plane who's name I can't remember, a DC3 and the pride of the museum and Constellation, affectionately known as a Connie.
A DC3 being carefully restored to original specifications.
Peter and I enjoying the first class seats of the restored Connie
After the museum, it was time for Peter and I to leave the big city and work our way to Little Rock. We made a conscious decision to stay off the big highways and to let serendipity lead the way.
Follow the purple hatched line, it's the route we took.
By taking the small roads, we saw the beautiful countryside of Southwest Missouri. We stopped by a historical plaque which marked the location where 12,000 men of Missouri camped one winter during the War Between the States. These men entered on the side of the Confederacy. Peter and I were clearly now in the South.
On a cliff above the confluence of the Osage and Sauk rivers.
Our wanderings took us near many lakes and reservoirs. At Stockton State Park, I took a dip. Definately refreshing! The scene of a person taking a swim on a hot summer day in the South was one that I lived.
Sampling the local produce.
Eventually our path lead us onto this famous road.
Historic Route 66
After driving the winding roads of Southwest Missouri, I got onto Route 66, a long straightaway, and found myself going over 75 miles an hour. I got pulled over by Officer Byrnes of the Missouri Highway Patrol. I gave him my California drivers liscense along with the rental car paperwork. He was quizzical and asked Peter and I what the purpose of our trip was. His response, "are you getting paid to do this?" brought howls of laughter to Peter and I. After determining that I had no outstanding warrants for my arrest and had a clean driving record, Officer Byrnes let us go with a warning to "keep the speed down." A hearty shout out to Officer Byrnes!!
As the sun was setting, we rolled into the town of Joplin, MO. The pattern of development of these small cities is to have a charming and architecturallly beautiful downtown that is economically dying. Out near the interstate, all the chain and box stores have drawn residents away from the old town square. We saw this over and over again in most every town we entered.
After hitting up a local for dinner suggestions, Peter and I ended up at Big R's Restaurant.
A local steakhouse in Joplin, MO
I have to say that there was so much hope and potential for Big R's. But the steak I had was mushy and Peter's ribs were nothing compared to Arthur Bryants.
Sleep was found at the Joplin, MO Motel 6.
The museum, actually a hangar, is run by passionate historians of aviation. Kansas City was the original home of TWA, which stood for Transcontinental and Western Airways. The museum has three rooms of artifacts of long gone era of American Aviation. Here's something that attendents of flights had to be wary of.
The main part of the tour was to see the restored planes the museum has purchased and has volunteers working on restoring. There is a plane who's name I can't remember, a DC3 and the pride of the museum and Constellation, affectionately known as a Connie.
After the museum, it was time for Peter and I to leave the big city and work our way to Little Rock. We made a conscious decision to stay off the big highways and to let serendipity lead the way.
By taking the small roads, we saw the beautiful countryside of Southwest Missouri. We stopped by a historical plaque which marked the location where 12,000 men of Missouri camped one winter during the War Between the States. These men entered on the side of the Confederacy. Peter and I were clearly now in the South.
Our wanderings took us near many lakes and reservoirs. At Stockton State Park, I took a dip. Definately refreshing! The scene of a person taking a swim on a hot summer day in the South was one that I lived.
Eventually our path lead us onto this famous road.
After driving the winding roads of Southwest Missouri, I got onto Route 66, a long straightaway, and found myself going over 75 miles an hour. I got pulled over by Officer Byrnes of the Missouri Highway Patrol. I gave him my California drivers liscense along with the rental car paperwork. He was quizzical and asked Peter and I what the purpose of our trip was. His response, "are you getting paid to do this?" brought howls of laughter to Peter and I. After determining that I had no outstanding warrants for my arrest and had a clean driving record, Officer Byrnes let us go with a warning to "keep the speed down." A hearty shout out to Officer Byrnes!!
As the sun was setting, we rolled into the town of Joplin, MO. The pattern of development of these small cities is to have a charming and architecturallly beautiful downtown that is economically dying. Out near the interstate, all the chain and box stores have drawn residents away from the old town square. We saw this over and over again in most every town we entered.
After hitting up a local for dinner suggestions, Peter and I ended up at Big R's Restaurant.
I have to say that there was so much hope and potential for Big R's. But the steak I had was mushy and Peter's ribs were nothing compared to Arthur Bryants.
Sleep was found at the Joplin, MO Motel 6.
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