As the sun sets in the west, this wayfaring stranger has camped his wagon for the evening in Abilene, Texas. Today’s drive was not nearly as long as expected. It took four hours from Austin, including several stops along the road. With thoughts straying, frenzied, with nothing but time to waste, I deviated from the beaten path. I submerged myself in the Texas panhandle and surfaced for air only after witnessing superabundent visions both glorious and austere.
This morning’s shower was like a series of needles stabbing supple skin. If you’ll notice the carnation pink colored splotch in this photograph, that would be my burns. Rustling through US Route 183, the cars began to evaporate. Living creatures were not all that dissipated amid this endeavor. Trees were sparse. They shrank in stature. Shrubs hugged the earth, yearning for rains to slake their thirst. Cacti appeared. I went this way. Historical monuments marked off-route trails, soliciting vagabonds. The further I drifted along unpaved gravel, the more resplendent and terrifying the opportunities. Back on the highway, human contact was sparse. At times, the sky conspired to slay the clouds; to recuse them from visibility. At times, a vast canvas of blue spread across the horizon.
I saw my first armadillo. It was on its back, viscera spread across double yellow lines. I passed a ranch selling donkeys, a store selling puppies, and an outlet selling “exotic animals.” Their facade had a picture of a parrot and rhinoceros. I did not stop to see if they truly tender rhinos in Texas.
An apt analogy for today’s route would be: Texas Chainsaw Massacre meets Friday Night Lights. Noisome cottages replete with warped shingles, broken windows and doors lacking hinges gave way to quaint, one horse towns heavily promoting their football teams. Cities boasted populations of anywhere between 500 to 2,500 citizens. Locals vacillated in their approach to greeting an out-of-state traveler. There were kind hello’s, grins and short conversations. There were also evil stares, spit and head shakes.
I counted 12 cemeteries along the road. Shortly after topping 3,000 miles driven, I stopped In a town called Bangs to explore the grim burial ground.
Tonight I’m transcribing the interview from Dallas with Bubba Kadane, I’ll post excerpts tomorrow from Lubbock. Albuquerque in two days, Tucson in three.
