
Cowboy Motel
Their faces gaunt. Their eyes are blurred. Their shirts all soaked with sweat. Johnny Cash’s mystic anthem, Ghost Riders in the Sky, still echoes in the West Texas wind. But if you drive along Route 66 on the north side of Amarillo, the only cowboy you’ll likely see is one that stares from a motel marquee. His face is made of tin and his shir...