BIG RANCH COUNTRY

CCM
Up and out not as quickly as expected, we headed for the Texas Boarder, saying good-bye to Oklahoma, just before we switched states at a rest stop I saw a WANTED sign for a modern day outlaw, an escapee. Criminals just do not seem to get the same attention to their greatness that the James Gang, Billy the Kid and Annie Oakley seem to still comand, what with museums and all, well not until The New Yorker or some other perfumed glossy gets interested and you get a movie made.

When I looked around me 36 hours ago and called what I saw Big Sky country I was confused. About an hour into Texas and (I can not believe we have driven all the way to Texas, yes it is the panhandle but remains most definitely the lone star state, even way up here) everything changed. The fog we had been driving through all morning suddenly lifted revealing a white rasped blue sky that just kept going until I lost focus. The land too went from flat to dips and rolls in browns and grays and shrubs—something right out of True Grit—Saturday matinee cowboy country. Oh and the temperature, well it jumped 13 degrees to t-shirt weather, fantastic! Jack went to sleep in one world and woke up someplace else, just in time for the Bug farm. VWs planted head first into the ground at a completely deserted road side stop that now sits on the “Historic” Route 66.


There is much attempt at getting folks to stray off the speedy I-40 to this route that once was great, but was it? Tonight in Santa Rosa we chose one of those old musty well named with excellent signage throw back motels. No phone, not really any wifi (though advertised) and charm, well kinda— three single beds, some great wood paneling and a Laundromat offering a pay phone, welcome relief to Meg, Jack and his BBQ stained jeans. But hey, what kind of “beetles” were those things swimming in the toilet bowl anyway? (flushed, there was no mention of them to Jack) And is that a train track just a few feet from our back wall? Chug, chug, chug, TOOT-TOOT.

What came flooding back to me in Amarillo was the sweet sound of “y’all”. We had a fine dinning experience, once again ordering far too much in a country that piles high, and god damn these people are BIG and now I know why. What made it better than great was our waitress and her “how are y’all doing…y’all ready to order”, and “…thanks y’all, have a great afternoon”. I fell in love, realizing that I could listen to a southern accent all day long, I have same the problem with the Scots. OK sure, there are some troubles with Texas but by golly they are nice. ‘Course Jack and I are very white which probably helps, plus we are crazy polite. I guess they might think we are gay, not sure how sensitive Texas and cowboy country are after Brokeback, but we remain unscathed.


Cadillac ranch was grand in every way, more than the whole of the parts. A field filled with whimsy and young bulls too. Fantastic. And then it was New Mexico and a new time zone.


Tonight in between Grammy this and that, local news pipes in: two young girls were killed in New Mexico’s Santa Rosa today. Hey that’s were we are staying tonight, oye America.