We had the chance to drive on Route 66 a few times on our way back, and while we did learn a little about the history of the well-traveled highway, mostly, let’s face it, we were interested in things like life-size dinosaurs, which we just so happened to see in a town called Holbrook in Arizona.

Because we ended up in Holbrook near sunset after seeing the Grand Canyon, and because the Petrified Forest was nearby and next on our route, and we really wanted to see that, we decided to settle down for the night in the little town.

Especially when we discovered that one of the lodging options looked like this:

Yeah. A wigwam, for Christ’s sake. A whole bunch of concrete wigwams. The Wigwam Motel.

When we saw this, The Wigwam Motel, and decided that staying there was very, very important, I went to the office to inquire about prices and was greeted by a kind, elderly woman, sitting by a fire and reading a romance novel. Settled, I thought. We are staying in the concrete wigwam with the grandma as innkeeper on Route 66! And the road trip shall be immediately declared a success!

Sleeping there that night, in our own tiny building after eating Mexican food at a local joint, wasn’t only funny (which was pretty much guaranteed) it was also cozy and quiet. Except for, you know, when one of us would declare “WIGWAM!” in a gleeful shout before erupting into laughter, because seriously, you just can’t help yourself in that kind of situation.