Dan greeted Texas the way all Philadelphia Eagle fans would greet Texas - by letting a middle digit fly in the general direction of a "Welcome to Texas" sign on the side of Interstate 40. I vaguely wondered whether that would come back to bite him in the keister then promptly fell back asleep.
Our first stop in Texas was an interesting landmark known as Cadillac Ranch. The ranch consists of 10 old, rusted Cadillacs half buried nose into the dirt on the side of the highway. The cars, now covered in layers and layers of spray paint, have been at rest since the 1970's, and passersby are encouraged to leave their mark. So we did as we were told, each leaving our own veritable signature somewhere on those long dead vehicles. I challenge you to take a road-trip and find them.
We said our goodbyes to the ranch and began making our way southbound toward San Antonio. It did not take long for Texas to exact its revenge, in the form of some flashing police lights. Apparently, driving 79 miles per hour in a 70 mph zone is frowned upon in northern Texas. The officer was friendly enough, but he had apparently skipped the class of police academy that says its shameful to give someone a ticket for less than 10 mph over on a road that sees that a maximum of 27 cars any given day. After casting him the dirtiest of looks as he walked away, we continued onward until our eyelids began to subside to the perpetual effects of gravity, and we pulled into a rest area for some rest.
At this point in the trip, we are semi-professional vehicular-sleepers, which intentions of going pro in the near future, barring a career-ending diagnosis of sleep apnea . When sleeping in a car, there are many factors to take into consideration - the angle at which to lower your seat (no, friends, a full recline is not going to give you optimum comfort), the correct placement of clothing for satisfactory head support and the positioning of the vehicle to maximize darkness in a well-lit area.
We have it down to a science. Charts. Protractors. Pie Graphs. The whole enchilada.
We slept into the sun inevitably plucked up from dreamland. We were not far from San Antonio at this point, so we made our way into the city, which has been built up around the old mission now immortalized as the Alamo. Being a long time fan of Davy Crockett (I once had a faux-raccoon tail hat that my mother made me), I suggested we head to the spot where he and hundreds others made their last stand against the Mexican armies. It was far bigger than I imagined; I had always pictured a small room, lit by candles and torches, teeming with a ragtag group of heavily bearded Texans, with someone periodically shouting things like "You don't mess with Texas," which would be by a rousing group response of "We like big!"
In reality, it was a much larger facility, relatively speaking, with several buildings and a lot of open space. During the siege of the Alamo, there were people from around the United States (Crockett, himself, was a Congressman from Tennessee) and even many immigrants. The Irish seemed particularly interested in the outcome of this battle, with many representatives holed up within the walls. There were also many women and children, families of some of the men who had been brought in, ironically enough, for their safety. Thankfully, once the Alamo was finally overrun, the lives of most of these innocents were spared. However, one can hardly imagine the memories they took with them from the Alamo when they finally left its walls.
What struck me the most was how low the back wall of the Alamo was. I'm not sure if erosion or some fortification disaster took place (there was certainly no sign implying this), but I am relatively certain that I could have hurdled that wall. I shall concede that people were far shorter in those days, but it seems to me that the Mexicans could have had a spirited argument with the Americans inside, in much the same way neighbors bicker over property lines over their white picket fences.
The San Antonio River cuts through the city of San Antonio, and along a section of its banks, the city has built up a pedestrian walkway, which itself makes for a beautiful stroll, but now is so overgrown with high-priced restaurants and gimmicky tourist shops that it unfortunately feels contrived.
We found a bar to watch some football outside of the center of the city. It happened to have five or six beach volleyball nets out back, with perfect weather to boot. Sadly, Steve was no longer with us, so I resigned myself to watching football and eating copious amounts of food with Dan.
We checked into a cheap hotel, taking our first shower in days, before melting into our beds. We awoke the next morning to tumultuous rains. We were on our way to Austin, so we urged Appa onward through the deluge. When we arrive, the storm had not ceased, which through a damper on our plans for Austin, which consisted mostly of outdoor activities. We headed to South Congress Avenue, an street known for its eccentric shops and markets. Because of the rain, we only looked around for a little while, but Dan managed to buy a cupcake from a food cart devoted to the little pastry. The rain drove us into a little shop called Uncommon Things, and we were immediately transported into a different world, full of all things your house you constantly think of throwing away but generally find their way into between couch cushions and random drawers and the attic. There was keys for things unknown, house numbers, pieces to games no longer in production, blocks made decades ago, rubber band balls, belt buckles of varying levels of absurdity, eerie dolls with cracked faces, silverware, foreign medical charts, eclectic furniture and clothing; the list is endless. My personal favorites were the black and white photographs (namely the one of the German couple of Hermann and Helena) that each cost more than $5. I'm not one to spend money on a photo of someone I had never met, solely on principle, but the look in Hermann's eyes nearly convinced me to reconsider my tenets.
We wandered through the shop for a while, and when the rain had subsided, we returned to Appa. The rest of the day was spent battling the weather. When the sun broke through the clouds, we made a short climb up to an overlook of the city, which was nothing particularly special especially in the overcast weather. I hear that under normal circumstances, Austin is a delightful city, with a thriving music and art scene, but with the weather and our short stay, it was rather underwhelming. We put it in our rear view mirror and drove out into the torrential rain eastward.
This post has been brought to you by Cadillacs, uncommon things and Rep. David Crockett of the great state of Tennessee.
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