I sat up and stayed awake until I could hear the unmistakable sound of breathing from someone asleep. It was 4:30 before I was asleep again. It’s 6:30, and everyone is awake. It’s going to be a hard day.
Hard bagel, not really so much a bagel, but a chewy piece of dry bread that cream cheese will try to camouflage. Some fake orange juice water to wash it down, and we’ll call this breakfast. The dessert for this breakfast, or proverbial icing on the cake, is getting pulled over shortly afterward to be questioned if I was the culprit who kept Van Horn awake the evening of March 1st, 2005. No, it wasn’t me; I swear it was the freight train.
That would have been interesting getting pulled over for that, but I have to get pulled over for doing 6 miles an hour over the speed limit. I told the officer, sure, I know I was doing 81, maybe 82 in a 75 zone, but….? “Well, here in Texas, you can get pulled over for doing 1 mile an hour over the limit.”
I was asked to step out of the vehicle so as not to influence what came next. This officer asked my aunt and grandfather if they were being moved across Texas against their will. Are you f’ing kidding me? Does this guy really think I might be involved with human trafficking?
Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph on a moped, a mile an hour was all that it would take, and then it’s considered that maybe I’m selling old people on the black market. But it was my lucky day as Eleanor and Herbert covered for me, and I was let off with a warning. I’ll just set the cruise control at 2 miles an hour under the limit for the rest of the day. Wouldn’t you know it, everyone starts passing me by.
How Texas law enforcement gets away with it, I’ll never know. Maybe it’s my out-of-state license plate influencing things? What is up with all these police in Texas anyway? I see them passing me in unmarked pickup trucks with red-blue lights under the cattle pusher mounted over the grill. They cruise by in sedans of various colors, primarily white, black, and grey. Squad cars line the roads next to and behind trees, on the other side of hills, and around corners; all of them with a driver just watching the traffic go by, looking for human traffickers pimping the elderly.
Later in the day, at a gas station, I asked someone filling his tank how he could live in Texas with so many police lying in wait around every corner. He laughed and said, “Good luck; you are up against three agencies vying for your tourism money-lined pocket.” There are state troopers, highway patrolmen, and local police all waiting to mop up some state revenue. I guess it costs a lot of money to fry so many folks on death row here in Texas.
Oops, now anyone reading this will know I am a liberal. Nah, I’m just an American with a view. The guy at the gas station leaves me with a description of his favorite new t-shirt, “One Nation Under Surveillance.” And I thought all the kooks lived in Arizona, New Mexico, California, Oregon, and the other 45 states; now I know that Texas is kooky too.
We left the 10 Freeway at exit number 307 to see another side of Texas and also to avoid seeing so many law enforcement agencies on the prowl. The 190 going east through Iraan, Menard, and Mason is a great introduction to the hills of the Pecos region and the beginning of Texas Hill Country.
Badgers, wild turkeys, owls, sheep, goats, cattle, and oil pumps are some of the wildlife we see on either side of the car. Dead wildlife populates this rural stretch of road, too. Skunk, raccoon, deer, feathers in clumps, and random fur make up the deceased roadside buffet, a veritable smorgasbord.
The drive today ran into its first snag: Auntie’s legs weren’t feeling well. She props them up, covers them, and tries to do some minor exercises but has warned us that if they don’t feel better soon, we may be turning around early.
The marquee at the old Odeon Theatre in Mason, Texas, couldn’t have been more appropriate with the title, Are We There Yet showing. With my fellow travelers getting a bit grumpy at the long rural drive, we head south here on the 87 to find the 290 so we can get to Austin as soon as possible and check into our motel for the night.
The weather is dour which is okay as it fits the mood in the car. We just keep driving because Texas, being the giant state that it is, requires us to just keep going.
A rest stop beckons, which, I should point out, features a star. Everything in Texas has a star on it, the symbol that represents the entire idea behind the Lone Star State.
After arriving in Austin, I checked in with a Gujarati guy who I quickly learned will someday soon be releasing his first music CD. Without time for small talk, I unload the car, bring Auntie to her room, and then do the same with my room. Yep, my room; Grandpa needs sleep, which he is certain he wouldn’t get any if he were to continue sharing a room with me. So, he and Auntie are sharing a room that, if I am not mistaken, will be 114 degrees before they fall asleep – if they fall asleep.
Before indulging in their hotel sauna/sweat lodge, we attempted to get some Chinese food delivered. They only deliver before 1:00. Okay, but it’s only 7:00 now. That’s 1:00 in the afternoon. Oh My God, Texas, let me guess, the police are on a late afternoon patrol for illegal Mexican Chinese food delivery people who are doing 40.5 in the 40 zones, so restaurants only deliver until the police wander out of the doughnut shops?
Bad thoughts make for bad times: this is a new proverb for Texas, I’m coining. I drive 3 miles south past a large freeway construction zone, make a U-turn, and follow the frontage road looking for ‘the’ street with the Chinese restaurant. Somehow, I miss it and am soon north of downtown Austin, approaching the airport, certainly an omen.
I call Caroline to be my eyes on the internet. I learned that I was on the wrong side of town. I make a U-turn and get back on the freeway to go back across town. I get off the freeway a mile from our hotel to fetch our aging dinner. That fast-food idea required an hour to order, drive to, wait, and drive back before we sat down to eat.
In the hour I was gone, Auntie and Grandpa managed to heat the room to a point where the nylon fibers in the cheap curtains were dripping into pools of plastic on the floor. I was able to endure the inferno long enough to wolf down my dinner. My beef and scallops had originally been a spicy dish, by the last fork fulls, it became Twice Cooked Beef and Rubber.
Out of their door, I stood looking like the Old Faithful geyser from Yellowstone due to the steam rising out of my clothes. Naked with white rice clinging to my beard, I return to my room in order to practice snoring loud enough that I’ll keep Grandpa awake, even if he is eight doors away around the corner. Honestly, though, I wouldn’t change a thing. If you could have seen my aunt’s face smelling the wildflowers, anyone would have changed places with me in an instant. I look forward to the coming days and wish my aunt good health so that we may be able to continue my first cross-country road trip with these two great relatives of mine.