Cindy Lange-Kubick walks 27th Street

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By the Lincoln Journal Star

At 10:40 a.m. on Thursday, Dec. 14, Journal Star writer Cindy Lange-Kubick started walking south along 27th Street from one of its northernmost points -- 7000 N. 27th St. About five hours later, she finished her 12-mile walk when she arrived at one of the road's southernmost points -- 8400 S. 27th St.. Over the next week, Cindy will share pieces from her travel diary as she makes her way down The 27th Street Stretch.

10:42 a.m., Wildcat Drive, 7000 N. 27th St.

The green sign points up a concrete ramp, letting the world know it’s 97 miles west to Grand Island and 52 miles east to Omaha.

I am heading south.

Straight south on a mid-December day with a north wind at my back and Merrell clogs on my feet.

I’ve got until dark to make it from here — where the cows once grazed and the corn once grew and the wildcats once roamed — to Yankee Hill Road, where the cows once grazed and the corn once grew and the wildcats once roamed.

I’m keeping this journal in case I get blisters on my feet and collapse in a McDonald’s bathroom along the route, and rescuers don’t find me for days and wonder: Where was she going and why was she going there?

And when they read my coffee-stained notepad, they will know I wanted to walk where no woman had ever walked, along sidewalks few had ever tread, seeing what there was to see at 2½ mph on 27th Street.

I’ve got 12.91 miles to go.

Let’s trudge.

10:43 a.m., Wildcat Drive, 7000 N. 27th St.

I am alone amid the new crop growing on 27th Street: cars.

 I can buy a car, fill my car with gas, wash my car, change the oil in my car, park my car, lube my car, repair my car, drive my car.

How do I know where the car lots are? I look for the giant American flags.

Because I have no car, I pass by Anderson Ford Lincoln Mercury Mazda and Husker Auto Group and the silver 2007 Lexus on sale for just $41,746. I note the price of regular at the Conoco station: $2.39.

I notice a street called Whitehead Drive in the middle of this herd of cars. Hmmm. The U-Stop owners are Whiteheads. Coincidence or no?

I see a sign ahead: 29 Years Tree City USA.

I see very few trees, but I do see the Christmas-tree-shaped roofs of row after row of apartments.

I see Best Western is having a seasonal special: $59.95.

Just past Fletcher Avenue I see there is still land available, big enough for a 6,000-square-foot restaurant.

And on the west side of the street, the last of the places the wildcats roamed, I see cattails, scrubby pines, a meandering creek and golden grasses blowing.

I find old McDonald’s cups, broken beer bottles, a page from Tanner Littrel’s homework assignment.

Just north of Folkways Boulevard, Lloyd Stice is replacing the intake manifold gasket in his Ford. The retired railroader can remember when 27th was a dirt road.

“There was a brick house where those pine trees are. It was the only residence this side of Cornhusker.”

Now all those cars, early in the morning and after work.

“It’s a fit, to put it mildly.”

The good thing, he says, is Wal-Mart up the road, “seven financial institutions of varying degrees,” Super Saver and Hy-Vee.

I head that way.

Past the big boxes: Slumberland, Sofa Mart, Toys “R” Us.

I stop to talk to a guy who calls himself Joe, standing on the grass where the cars pull in to shop.

He has his cardboard sign. And he’ll stay until he gets the $20 or $30 he needs to get through the day, he says.

On a good day that would be 45 minutes, maybe an hour.

I’ve walked two miles. The price of regular at the Mobil station near Ticonderoga: $2.36.

11:36 a.m., Ticonderoga Drive, about 4600 N. 27th St.

The wind still at my back, I keep walking.

 Ahead I see a sign with an arrow: To I-80.

Apparently, it’s not too late to buy a car and head north.

Instead, I stick to the sidewalk next to this six-lane super street.

The price of gas is down another 2 cents: $2.34.

All I have is my backpack and my sweater, but if I had more, this would be the place to leave it. Storage barns everywhere.

Up ahead, the Golden Corral lot is filling, and the only smell for a block is sirloin.

There is a Goodwill store and the Bridal Gown Outlet and the lonely Rod Kush Plaza. Rod Kush, why hast thou forsaken us?

The billboard claims the Powerball jackpot is $43 million. (A few miles ahead another Powerball billboard will claim it is just $33 million.)

Smaller strip malls compete with stores on steroids.

 Taco Bell across the street from Taco John’s? Menard’s and Home Depot sharing the same parking lot? May the cheapest chalupas and sturdiest table saws win.

Another sign with arrows: University of Nebraska … Zoo … Museum.

Someone wants the guests of the Country Inn and Suites to know this isn’t all Lincoln has to offer. Keep going, the signs seem to say.

In the distance, the sound of a bell ringer at Super Saver. And up ahead a landmark: Cornhusker Highway, God bless it.

Shortly after noon, Cornhusker Highway and North 27th Street

For the second time in two hours I am nearly hit by a car turning right as I cross the street.

This time, I dodge the 11 county Oldsmobile and then take a chance to stop and pick up a dime that appears to have been run over by a coal train.

Village Inn is advertising holiday pies and Frontier Harley Davidson looks like an abandoned saloon. (They've packed up and headed to West O.)

I feel sentimental for two seconds when I pass the building where I worked in my youth and which is now either 2nd Wind exercise equipment or Custom Floor and Design. (Both look the same, long and boxy).

I feel even more sentimental at the day-old bread store where I once snarfed Hostess cupcakes for breakfast and where Salle Sinner is now emptying a grocery cart filled with bread — $2.14! — into the back of her station wagon.

She lives north of here, off 27th and Superior. The street has everything, she says.

And now that the city is closing the Starship Theatre, where she loved to take her grandkids for $2 movies, she'll never have to go downtown again.

Moving on.

Past the muffler shop and a trailer park, the "exotic piercing" shop and what appears to be a graveyard for Pepsi vending machines, I begin to smell what can only be described as A VERY BAD SMELL. It is either the Cargill elevator to the east or the Theresa Street wastewater plant to the west.

Time for the overpass. I meet a single jogger, dodge a few piles of dog do, and stop to read the graffiti: Hail to the Thief.

When it seems safe to take a deep breath, I do.

And I keep walking.

12:32 p.m., heading to Orchard Street and beyond

A few more blocks and I arrive at the lovely Pentzer Park, grass and trees and toys, where two bundled-up kids play on the slide.

Then it’s past the lovely Northbridge Community Center, where the old Safeway store once stood, and then past the lovely new police substation.

This is the heart of North 27th Street, a mecca of small businesses and humble restaurants.

At T’s Stop and Shop, Terry Rupert is frying up chicken at the business he’s run for 15 years. He’s got the cheapest gas on 27th Street: $2.25 for regular.

The smell of chicken reminds me it’s time for lunch: a falafel sandwich and sweet tea at Sinbad’s.

Fueled up, I press on, hoping to reach the bright lights of Williamson Honda by dark.

Past the Alps grocery store, Kim Son Video, Hair by Lana, past the filled parking lot at People’s Health Center, down a street of new and old, brick and frame, where Immanuel Temple once held services in a former used furniture store that once was Chubbyville. Past a new Walgreens across the street from the old Wagey Drug.

The 27th Street bus chugs past heading south, and a woman clutching an Alcoholics Anonymous book runs to catch it.

I’m moving out of the Clinton neighborhood and into Malone, advertised by a pretty blue sign. And another sign: Crime Stoppers Pays.

I see a block of Asian stores and restaurants: Vina Market, Pho Nguyenn, the Thai House.

Then I move into the Middle East: Alzahra Market, Holyland Cuisine, Baba’s Bakery. Mohammad Alhaidari and his friend carry bags of tea, flour, cheese, meat.

I move into the foods of Mexico: El Rancho and Tacos el Pueblo.

I pause to mourn the long dead Donut Stop just north of O Street, home of the best chocolate frosted cinnamon rolls in the world,  now Cricket National.

I’ve reached the north-south divide. Only  — only? — 84 blocks to go.

Follow Cindy's walk down 27th Street throughout the week. Reach her at 473-7218 or clange-kubick@journalstar.com.