From Dave Brigham:
I have a weird relationship with motels. I love them but wouldn't want to stay in one. Like many Americans, I've gotten spoiled by hotels and resorts and so I'm partly to blame for the demise of "motor hotels." For that I apologize.
I stayed in motels on occasion as a kid, from the Moon Motel in Howell, NJ, while visiting my grandparents, to an establishment in Salt Lake City during a family vacation when I was 12 years old. There was nothing particularly awesome about these motels (well, other than the Moon's sign), but I liked that they had pools and were situated in the middle of the action. You're not sealed off in a high-rise surrounded by other tall buildings; you're at ground level among the El Caminos, street walkers and Chevy Chase swimming in the pool in the cool night air (WARNING: NOT ENTIRELY SAFE FOR WORK).
Also, Magic Fingers beds.
As a teen, I spent a vacation in a motel on Cape Cod, possibly Yarmouth. I don't remember much about the place except witnessing a car crash and collecting a bucket of smelly shells. Several years later, during college, I spent time with some high school buddies in a motel that I believe was also in Yarmouth. We downed shots of tequila in the room before heading out to carouse.
So it's fitting that on my recent annual vacation to the Cape, I found myself in Yarmouth. We were staying in Pocasset, a village of Bourne where we stay for a week every summer. I took an aimless road trip by myself one day while Beth and the kids were at the beach. I didn't know what I was looking for, and got frustrated as I drove along Route 6A and found nothing but beautiful homes and quaint villages. I was hoping to find something like I did five years ago on a trip to Pocasset (see August 5, 2010, "Dark Side of the Motel").
Turning south from 6A, I made my way to Route 28 in Yarmouth. I'd misunderstood something I'd read about Route 6A. I thought that "seeing what Cape Cod looked like before tourists discovered it, and visit[ing] some of the best quaint, little shops in New England," was what I wanted. But as I drove through Yarmouth, I realized I'd found what I was looking for. The place is much more honky-tonk, with garish mini golf courses, tons of restaurants and hotels and arcades and other amusements.
And of course there were motels.
Many of them are still open, from the Beach 'N Towne to Hunters Green, the Dunes Motor Inn to Castle Dawn. The Bass River Motel was right next to the first shuttered place I saw.
There was no sign, but an online search later on told me this used to be the Cavalier Motor Lodge. This site comprises more than 4 acres and numerous buildings and indoor and outdoor pools.
Eighteen months ago a developer proposed to build affordable housing and commercial establishments on the site, but there are no signs of anything happening any time soon.
Not too far north on Route 28 I drove past another shuttered motor hotel.
This place seems to be in pretty good shape, but it's harder and harder for smaller, locally owned places to compete with the hotel chains on the Cape.
I guess what it comes down to for me is an appreciation for the little guy, the kitschiness of neon and the smaller scale of motels. But as I said, I also really like air conditioning, indoor pools and sleeping on beds with clean sheets. There are plenty of motels that have been redecorated and freshened up, without losing their old-school charm.
For another recent motel-related post, see April 15, 2015, "From Motel to Mall".
To see my previous post about this year's trip to the Cape, see July 21, 2015, "Bikes, Buzzards & Blessings."
Stay tuned for the third and final installment of this year's trip to the Cape....