We drug our feet leaving Terlingua… we don’t want to leave.
On the porch we hugged. LaRoja told me, “we’ll get through this together.”
The drive to Fort Stockton was gorgeous. Turquoise skies, puffy clouds, cool and sunny… the irony that weather cleared up after over a week of rain on the very day I leave is not lost on me.
From Stockton to Monahans was a little less fun. Oil field country. Cranked out punks with semi trucks and a bad attitude.
From Monahans to Snyder was hell. I-20 is riddled with construction, and as dangerous as the Stockton to Monahans leg of the journey but with 10 times more traffic. I can’t imagine why anybody would be in a hurry to get to Odessa, Texas, but I huddled the right side of the road going the speed limit (75) while jacked-up pickups and semis tail gated each other, cut each other off… apparently, it’s a “win” to cut somebody off, and winning is so important these days.
In Midland the rain started. It was a greasy drizzle that stuck to the windshield. Through the blurred glass I could see a dystopian nightmare of flares and fires off in the distance… Hell for a post-industrial age.
The rain and lack of visibility didn’t slow down the cowboys- just added hydroplaning and skidding to the shoulder of the road to the show.
I finally got to Snyder about 9. Fast food restaurants. Pizza Inn serves buffet all day every day. One bar and grill on the square.
Today should be much better- headed for Tulsa, OK. I’ve left myself time to explore a little… I hear it’s not a dust bowl any more.