Texas

Driving through Texas was an experience I’ll never forget.  The snow was coming down sideways as I crossed from New Mexico into the vast flatlands that led to Dallas.  The jagged lines of open mesa steppes and uneven demarcation of Indian Reservations were cut out into a neatly gridded plain fenced off with barbed wire and cattle gates.  New Mexico was an open place where you feel like you should have water on you in case your car breaks down.  Texas seemed to have some sort of civilized logic to it, where the fear of exposure died down even though the amount of people per square mile never really picked up.

 

The highway went from a fast moving interstate to a state highway that cut through mostly abandoned towns.  For the first time since I stopped for gas in Bakersfield, I encountered southerners whenever I fueled up.  After a 17-hour day and in the middle of a 13-hour day, it was nice to finally feel like I was making some progress.  The desert on the other side of the Sierra Nevadas really didn’t look all that different from the desert right outside of Albuquerque, it was the change in the people that really put the difference in perspective.

 

Within 1 hour of being in Northwest Texas I encountered:

-       Signs advertising Western Wear depots, 72 ounce steak eating contests, and large gun outlets

-       More barbecue joints than any other kind of commercial enterprise combined

-       More trains on the track than cars on the road

 

What a surreal place