Texas is a darn, big state. Two years ago this week, Sweetie and I drove a big Budget rental truck across this country, headed for Oregon. There were two things in Texas that stood out. First of all, in the rest stops along Interstate Twenty, there were tables set up around the restroom area where American Indians were selling jewelry. Not just one or two Indians, but a dozen or so. Entire families at some tables. Several generations, babies to grannys. But the jewelry, and I am no expert, looked to me like any jewelry you might see at Smiley's Flea Market in South Bibb County. I'm just saying....
Of course, Sweetie and Chuck did not let me linger too long for my research. It was back in the truck and keep on driving. Interstate Twenty dead ends into Interstate Ten and before I knew it, we were in New Mexico. Here's my second thing about Texas. I did not see a single cowboy riding the range as we drove through mile after mile of open range. I did not see a cowboy anywhere, and believe you me, I looked.
I love cowboys. My life-long romance began when I first saw Roy Rogers on TV. It was love at first sight. I guess it's something about a man on a horse or maybe I fell in love with Trigger. I've always loved horses too. My parents always believed I would out-grow my obsession with horses. That did not happen, sorry folks.
By the time we got to Phoenix...yes, I'm a big Glen Campbell fan but Sweetie made me stop singing out loud in the truck. I started looking for something a little different. We stopped at another rest area on the interstate. (With the big truck and another truck pulling a trailer, we rarely left the interstate other than fuel stops. The easy off and on rest areas worked best for potty breaks.) I had just jumped down from the truck when a small sign next to the sidewalk caught my eye.
"Please watch out for rattlesnakes"
"What?" I pointed to the sign, as Sweetie and Chuck dashed toward the men's room. "Y'all, look!"
Needless to say, it was hard for me to enjoy that bathroom break. My head rotated back and forth as I searched the stall, under the sink, behind the trash can, and around the rocks for a snake. It was probably the fastest bathroom visit in female history. For once, I was thrilled to climb back up in that truck!
We finally made it to California! It was a rocky, desert, deserted desolate stretch, not the swimming pools and movie stars I expected. As we headed toward the Los Angeles area, where we would pick up Interstate Five to go north, I noticed a sign. "Chuckawalla Valley State Prison, next exit".
About a half mile past that sign was a small sign along the road. "Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers". Really.
To be continued...
Funny about the rattlesnakes!
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