Not surprisingly, our day began in the same place the previous one
ended: our motel room in Ft. Stockton, TX, where the temperature was a
shocking 34 degrees with high winds, giving the 34 degrees an extra
bite. The sky was angry that day, my friends, the clouds a gun-metal grey. We assumed, from the
town's name, that it would have a fort in it somewhere. So we
followed the tiny little signs for the historical tour, and had
a surprisingly difficult time finding the fort. But we did take
some pictures of some of Ft. Stockton's most impressive
landmarks, like the Courthouse, "Oldest House", the fanciest
hair salon in town, a cat, and a mural of some cowboys committing
unnatural acts with a bull. We did finally stumble upon the fort, though no one
could have blamed us if we had missed it. The fort seems to
consist primarily of an open field, which must have been hell
to defend. There is a guard shack on one side, but we'll be
damned if we can figure out what they're there to guard. But,
because we love you, we braved the blistering winds and bone-chilling temperatures for a couple
of pictures to prove to you that we're not crazy. But the real
prize of our morning in Ft. Stockton came as we were on our way
out of town. It was then that we stumbled upon the crème-de-la-crème:
Paisano Pete, the World's Largest Roadrunner.
This is our second day in the great state of Texas, home of George
Dubya, who, if the part of Texas on either side of the Interstate
is any indication, is doing a fine, if boring, job. If he doesn't
win the presidency, perhaps he should dedicate his next gubernatorial
administration to increasing the number of things for us to see
along I-10.
For instance, we pulled over where we saw a sign for a "Wildlife
Viewing Area," but after driving a few miles off the Interstate,
we found nothing but an old cemetery, and nobody there was talkin'.
At about 10:15, we stopped in Ozona, a name with numerous comedic
possibilities, none of them good, for our daily 100-mile breakfast
stop. When we pulled off the Interstate, we noticed that there is
a monument in town to David Crockett (travelers note: in Texas, it
is "David" Crockett, and never "Davy" Crockett.) So we stopped for
a look-see.
As we approached San Antonio, the weather started, really, to suck.
Very convenient, considering we expected this to be one of our most
outside-intensive days. Despite the rain, San Antonio is actually a
very pleasant city. Since it was raining, we decided to hold off on
the Alamo, and find out what this Riverwalk thing was all about. We
ducked into a nearby 5-star Westin Hotel to use the facilities and
noticed while we were there that the Riverwalk is almost entirely
outdoors. So, since it was clear we were going to have to get wet no
matter what we did, we decided to just go for it. But first, we
decided to arm ourselves in case we got wet. Which meant stealing
a couple of hand-towels from the Westin bathroom. We didn't want
to do it, but I think you'll agree we had no choice. As you can
see, they came in handy.
Our first stop was the Buckhorn Museum of Horns (p. 37 of
the Roadside America book, Dave), hoping to see some of the exhibits,
including the 4000-pound chandelier made out of deer horns. But the
fact is, no exhibit, no matter how many bones are in it, is worth a
$9.95 admission fee. (The Barberini Monks in Rome let us look at
their bones for less than a buck, excuse the pun.)
From there it was on to the Alamo, where Jim Bowie, William Travis,
and David Crockett led a band of 200 men in a thirteen-day
defense of the Alamo from 4,000 of Santa Ana's Mexican Dragoons.
They were eventually slaughtered, but did manage to take 1,600 of
the enemy with them. And by delaying Santa Ana for two weeks, they
gave Sam Houston time to get his army in shape for an eventual defeat
of Santa Ana's army at San Jacinto despite being outnumbered three to one.
 Lars here, jumping up on my soapbox: I've always been something of an Alamo buff, but since we couldn't take pictures inside, and it was raining outside, I thought I would try to convey what we were unable to do with pictures, because reading about it, and actually seeing where they fell are two completely different things. Try to imagine standing on the wall of the Alamo, with less than 200 other men, as 4,000 enemy soldiers march towards you under a red flag of "no quarter." You know that the only chance your tiny rebellion has to eventually defeat this Army is for you to hold them as long as you can, by sacrificing yourself. You know you're going to die, your commander has just sent a message to Santa Ana saying "Victory or death!", and yet you stay…for the cause. I just find it amazing to consider that set of circumstances given that the hardest decision I make on a daily basis is Latté or Mochachino? And it was pretty impressive to stand there, reading about and imagining all manner of individual acts of courage in the face of certain, bayoneted, death. It's no wonder that Texans are a little nuts; that's quite a story to live up to. OK, back to the fun.
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We were surprised, having seen all the movies and documentaries on
the subject, to find that the actual Alamo is right in the heart of
the city, surrounded by restaurants, shops, and hotels.
After the Alamo, we went to the mall. Yes, the mall. But it was
drizzly, very cold, and windy. We stopped for a late lunch at CPK.
What's cool about this mall is that it's where the Riverwalk begins…
or ends… or something.
The Riverwalk is like a twisty sunken canal with shops and restaurants
on either side, as well as nicely landscaped cobblestone pathways,
greenery, and waterfalls. Every twenty yards or so, the paths are
joined by arched stone bridges. Most of the establishments along the
Riverwalk have street-level entrances as well as water-level entrances,
which makes it very easy to walk around the city without realizing the
Riverwalk is even there. We actually wound up stumbling upon it ourselves.
The Riverwalk also allowed us to take care of an audience request: we
bought Hard Rock San Antonio collectibles for Jenni, (the Bride of
Rizzo).
Alas, it was time to say goodbye to fair San Antone. After a little road
confusion, which, happily, took us past the brand new AlamoDome, where the
Spurs play. With night fast approaching, there was still time for one more
audience request: according to Dave's Roadside America guide, a short ten
miles ahead lay the town of Seguin, and the world's second largest pecan
(p. 223). We know the sign says world's largest, but we happen to know
that the largest pecan is actually in Brunswick, MO. (ibid.)
The pecan behind us, we headed back to the Interstate as the rain began
again in earnest. So, we put the pedal to the floor in an effort to outrun
it, an effort that was eventually successful.
Besides being the largest city in Texas, Houston just looks really cool,
especially at night. So, we decided to try driving through downtown,
just to check it out, on our way to a hotel. It took us about five
tries before we found a road that would take us there, and we wound
up driving through some pretty sketchy neighborhoods. But we think you'll
enjoy the results. After adding fifty miles to our odometer, mostly by
driving back and forth over the same two-mile stretch of real estate, we
checked out prices on five hotels before settling on a La Quinta, from
where we are writing to you, at this very moment.
Tomorrow…Louisiana!
And now. . . Misc-Silliness.
An even sillier picture of the vacant lot that is Fort Stockton.
The question here is: was this the specific reason for which this trailer-unit was purchased? "Hey Harley, ya got any a' them antler-totin' trailers back thar?"
Take that, ya varmint!
Lars celebrates the discovery of the beginning of the Riverwalk.
Not surprisingly, our day began in the same place the previous one
ended: our motel room in Ft. Stockton, TX, where the temperature was a
shocking 34 degrees with high winds, giving the 34 degrees an extra
bite. The sky was angry that day, my friends, the clouds a gun-metal grey. We assumed, from the
town's name, that it would have a fort in it somewhere. So we
followed the tiny little signs for the historical tour, and had
a surprisingly difficult time finding the fort. But we did take
some pictures of some of Ft. Stockton's most impressive
landmarks, like the Courthouse, "Oldest House", the fanciest 
consist primarily of an open field, which must have been hell
to defend. There is a guard shack on one side, but we'll be
damned if we can figure out what they're there to guard. But,
because we love you, we braved the blistering winds and bone-chilling temperatures for a couple
of pictures to prove to you that we're not crazy. But the real
prize of our morning in Ft. Stockton came as we were on our way
out of town. It was then that we stumbled upon the crème-de-la-crème:
Paisano Pete, the World's Largest Roadrunner.
