Mine's Bigger Than Your's

We rolled out of Taos, not on the main interstate that would’ve taken us to the I-40 and into Texas, but through the mountainous backroads of New Mexico. The drive was beautiful, with fall colors that rival New England and an empty road that can be greatly appreciated after spending too much time on crowded freeways. On more than a few occasions that day we found ourselves asking each other, “Where the fuck are we?”

We were making our way across the panhandle of Texas, often referred to as the “armpit” of Texas (I didn’t know there was a non-armpit part) and as far into Oklahoma as possible. You see, we were anxious to get to the “real” south, the South were Church’s Chicken is on every street corner, where illiteracy is the norm and where people would be surprised to see an Asian and excited to ask her if she was sorry for attacking Pearl Harbor.

As we crossed the Texas border from NM you could tell something was different. First off, a sign indicated that there is a separate speed limit for those trucks hauling horse trailers – not trailers in general, but specifically horse trailers. Also, the lanes were definitely Texas-sized, that is to say, they are big. We could’ve fit two Hondas or three Minis side by side in one of them. As we pulled onto to one of those spectacularly dangerous roadways that are two lanes with cars driving 80 MPH towards the oncoming traffic as close as they can to the center, I realized that thing are different here in TX.

Deciding to drive into the night and not stop until we had reached the middle of OK we decided that we’d better get some dinner in El Paso. El Paso is one of those towns that seems to be based around the truckers coming through on the I-40. While there are undoubtedly parts we didn’t see, it appeared as if half the city was surrounding this freeway and most of the places were budget motels and eateries. We figured that since we were in Texas we’d better hit up a down-home Texas BBQ.

We chose the Country Barn BBQ, which was conveniently located just off the interstate and also had good reviews on Yelp. Let me tell you, there is nothing more stereotypically Texan than the Country Barn BBQ. We rolled up into the parking lot and found ourselves staring at a 40 foot tall cowboy statue. The building itself is designed to look like a giant red barn. The inside is cavernous – 30 foot ceilings, multiple rooms to eat in, even a jail cell with a table in it. The bathrooms had Texas shaped sinks and, in an effort to be on the forefront of urine temperature control, the urinals were filled to the brim with crushed ice. It was fun to pee into, but I guess the practicality of it was lost on me. The walls were lined with all sorts of flare – John Wayne posters, fake cowboy memorabilia, taxidermied animals – pretty much everything I’d ever want in a Texas BBQ. Oh yeah, the food, it was good, but nothing to write home about – so I won’t.

The panhandle of texas really is an ugly place. It is flat as the eye can see and is usually filled with some sort of wheat-esq farm, oil fields, budget motels or nothing at all. I wouldn’t say I was much happier when we crossed into Oklahoma. A state that is not unfamiliar to me, but one in which I would be just fine avoiding for the rest of my life. The vast improvement at this point was not that we were in OK, but that it was night and I didn’t have to stare at the obnoxiously void landscape. Instead we turned on the radio. At 9pm on a weekday night in OK there are limited things on the radio. Mostly country music and Jesus – not the actual Jesus mind you, but usually a fat guy reading from the bible or making callers feel bad about them or their family member’s sins.

In recent years, I have grown fond of some country music, so that is what we put on. The commercials on a country music station in OK are the best – they include such things as where to take your freshly shot deer for processing into deer sausage or steaks; how to use instructional tapes to help god help your family members get off drugs; and when the next ho-down will take place (I made that last one up).

Driving at night on the I-40 is kind of a lonely experience. Pretty much it’s just you and the truckers. Given our below freezing night in Taos we decided that we would just get to the South as quick as possible. Our strategy was to drive as far into the night as we could across America’s heartland, stop in a motel and then make our way to Dixie. Around 11pm I decided that I had had enough and pulled into one of the many ubiquitous towns that line major interstates. These places are where cross country travelers and truckers stop for cheap, greasy food, chain motels and gas. We pulled the car over and quickly called about 8 different motels to compare prices. Well, just because you compare, doesn’t mean you save. They were all about the same price, so we pulled into the closest one and went to sleep.

I love camping and this trip has been no exception, but something about a bed and four walls feels amazing. Well, that night we slept, but bright and early the next morn we were on our way to God’s Country – the South will rise again.

Texas Pictures