We passed it on the way to the Grand Canyon, but Tery and I were not going to pass up the opportunity to visit Bedrock City on our way back down to Phoenix. On a lonely strip of Route 64, Bedrock City is located across from a Gas Station that charged the outstanding rate of $2.89/gallon. Zoinks!
After filling up (just five gallons), we ambled across the road and parked away from all the other cars, er “junkmobiles.”
Tery and I marveled at the authentic looking picnic table with “tree-stump” base and chairs and “animal skins” tent. Dino, their pet dinosaur greeted visitors with his friendly-purply stance as he played a guitar and beamed his big characteristic smile. Tery got a picture of me behind Dino.
We jumped when Tery tripped a voice-activated greeting from a Gumball Machine Clown, who, if I wasn’t mistaken was making a pass at her!
Once inside we were forced to walk through a jungle of cheaper-than-thou tchtochkes, tee-shirts, sunglasses, shot glasses, magnets, and other Arizona/Grand Canyon, Your-in-the-West-now-Stranger-type postcards and memorabilia. We shuddered as we tip-toed in.
Past all the ancient, decrepit “souveniers” covered with a thick layer of old grease and cob-webs, we entered the equally charming “Fred’s Diner.”
Still part of the same room, with a faux fireplace partition that had old greasy candles inside, we sat down at one of the six tables with leopard-print plastic covered cafeteria-style chairs. Thank goodness I wasn’t wearing shorts!
Behind us sat “Georgie,” whom we would later learn was activated by flash-photography. His pale withered hairless chest stood in stark contrast from his deeply tanned leathery neck and face. Too much information? Well, you’d notice it too if you glanced at his very old, thin and worn too-baggy woman’s blue sweater that hung so loosely on him.
“Dot” came over to take our order. I like to think of her as a female Georgie. Icobad Crane-tall, long paige-boy brown haircut, deep-set brown eyes, hard lines were emphasized by the faded bright-pink lipstick and blue eyeshadow that were slashes of color across her stern face. But she was pleasant enough as she came over to take our order.
I couldn’t decide. Tery went in for the Bronto Burger right away. Well, I mused, I had steak and eggs for breakfast, so maybe I’ll branch out and have a different meat for lunch. Okay, after much hemming-and-hawing, I decided upon the Chickasaurus. Fried. With Mayonaise. And Onion Rings.
If your stomach isn’t hurting by now, just reading this…just wait! It’ll hurt, like mine did, after we left and were on another long, desolate stretch of highway heading towards Phoenix. Or it’ll act up again as we’re in the HOV lane during rush-hour traffic trying to fight our way as quickly as possible to Gilbert, AZ.
Needless to say, the Chickasaurus was delicous. Sort of. After I inhaled it. The Onion Rings were gross. Limp, soggy, bland onion rings that were too deep fried. My diet coke was good. Tery’s Bronto Burger was better but we suspect her “Cactus Juice” was really Hawaiian Punch. Not that there’s anything wrong with Hawaiian Punch.
Now back to the mystery of flash-activated Georgie, as we photographing our lunch, The Man With A Basket ‘O Fries behind us (that would be Georgie), popped to life after the second flash. He began humming. A humming George! What could be more amusing to this road-side attraction?! Fred Flintstone? Barney Rubble? Wilma? Betty? Dino? Bam-bam? Nah! We weren’t going to shell out another $4.50 beans for static characters! The show was right in the diner with us!
I give this dining experience 5 bones!
And if you believe that, I have another amusement park I could sell ya…..yeah, that’s the story!
For yet another perspective on Bedrock City:
Road Side America