Todays drive was the legendary part of Texas. West Texas, from San Antonio to Fort Stockton. It is 250 miles of absolutely nothing. Seriously, nothing except the beginnings of a desert landscape. Not a house, nor a gas station, nor signs of human life, but for an exit every 100 miles or so. There is absolutely nothing on this straight stretch of divided highway other than a random pothole. Just a handful of cars and a few 18 wheelers were on the road with me today. If you break down here, you are screwed. The occasional rubber tire marks burned in to the pavement swerving off highway is most likely due to some animal coming across your path. And there were a number of tire treads going off the road quickly. Damn. I would not want to drive this stretch at night. Or even on a very hot day. It was solitude. Alone time. Just bugs hitting the windshield. This was the stretch I was dreading the most, and there was more than once that I uttered aloud WTF.
Fort Stockton is no prize either. The produce at the grocery store is pathetic. I actually purchased spicy buffalo wings with dip for dinner. And a yogurt for good measure. The cops wear their 50 gallon cowboy hat in the cruiser, and the tourists are definitely noticed. I hope my car is still there in the morning.
But I don't mean to give Texas a bad name. I liked eastern Texas. And Houston seems pretty cool. The state is just too darn big. It's true what they say that things are bigger in Texas, I guess. The distance on Highway 10 from east of Houston to El Paso is 888 miles across. WTF.
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