...continued....

After eating biscuits and gravy at a T&A Travel Center Cafe, I hit the road again.

I drove through desert..........
.........I drove through El Paso. It looked like the ghetto of Puerto Rico, with colorful dirty little box houses. I drove and didn't stop, since everyone told me specifically not to stop in El Paso. I kept going, and going and going. I got gas in Van Horn, where Aurelea had suggested I stop. It was a quaint little Texan town miles from anywhere, with bare earth mountains on one side and desert stretching out the other side. I saw a biker getting gas. I thought about following the signs to some caverns north of there, but I wasn't in the mood. I was too broke to have too much fun, and if I wasted time, I'd have to pay to spend the night someplace. Better just get back on the road.

Texas is huge.

Driving through western Texas felt like running on a treadmill in a parched, empty valley. For 400 miles. At first there were mountain ranges in the distance, and I could chart my slow progression with the changing angles. Then there was nothing. And more nothing. My eyes started to close at about 2 p.m., and I pulled over onto the side of the road and fell asleep.

I was awoken by a young trucker. "Excuse me ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you but your headlights are on." Oh shit. I started the truck to make sure the battery was still good, and in a daze I got back on the highway, my gas tank on empty.

O please let there be a gas station soon. O please o please o please.

I pulled into the first exit of a town called Ozona, and wandered down the little road til I found a Chevron. I pulled in and had started pumping my gas, then I turned around and saw a biker parked behind me. The same biker.

"Where in California?" He asked me.

"Mendocino County..." I began to explain. He had just come from Vacaville, where his wife lives.

"So," he began. "Have you met any good people on your trip?"

I told him I hadn't really had any interactions with anybody so far.

"Well start talking! I had a three hour conversation at a truck stop yesterday with a total stranger. It set me behind schedule, but it was worth it."

We stood there in the shade of the awning and shared stories for twenty minutes, surprised we had been on the same road but hadn't seen each other the whole time.

I got back in the truck and drove down the main street of Ozona, which I've decided I like. It had that dusty pioneer town feel, and original brick architecture. But I had to keep moving. If I stopped anywhere I was sure to spend money. So it was back on the road, and I was aiming for Austin this time, just 200 miles away.

I think I actually gasped when I saw a patch of lush green grass, and saw flowing water again.
I got off the I-10 and onto the little Texan highway 290 that leads directly into Austin. I got gas (again) in a charming little town called Harper. The sun was setting, casting rich pink light on everything, and I passed by a pasture of longhorn cows, a little antique store, and a little church. This was the Texas I was hoping to see. Nothing but sweet charm and cowboys.
I got to Austin pretty late, and a humid fog had set in, though the temperature was in the 60's. I got lost trying to find a hotel and going the wrong way down one way streets, til I finally called Anna and had her look up a hostel. A bed cost 25 bucks, but I was too tired and sore to keep going, and there was no place safe enough to sleep in my truck. The hostel looked almost identical to every one I've stayed at in Europe. Everyone was nice, if indifferent. I kept to my self and woke up early to get back on the road. Maybe I was the indifferent one. I just wanted to keep going.

Once I'd left the city I started to kick myself. I could have explored. I could have enjoyed myself. Dammit! I'm not turning around! But the next cute little town I come to I'm stopping at, and that's final.

The town of Giddings presented itself as a likely candidate, and I parked my truck outside Whistlestop Antiques and walked the block to the nearest restaurant in a chilly wind. I got a cup of coffee and a peach cobbler, and tipped the sweet enthusiastic waitress. Then I gave in, and walked into the antique shop. I bought an apron and set of yellow, blue, and red enameled pans. Satisfied, I got back in my truck, and kept going.

Eastern Texas was far more beautiful. More frequently than anything were antique shops, firework stands, and strip clubs.

I drove across the Louisiana border that evening, and decided to spend an early night at the KOA in Lafayette. I would make a head start on the city of New Orleans first thing in the morning.

O my back hurt. I got back in the seat of my truck for one last long haul. Not too long, fortunately. I ate at a Waffle House outside of Baton Rouge, and crossed the enormous Mississippi, and there I was. Here I am. Driving into the city I was going to call home (at least for a little while). Drove through the French Quarter and into the Bywater neighborhood where I parked my truck in front of Casey and Christine's little yellow house.

The end.

More later, I promise.