Well folks, we’ve made it to Texas, and we’re nearly in Austin. Texas is proving to be very Texas-y indeed. “Glad you’ve made it to God’s Country,” were the words of Mr. Vaughn Applewhite who we met outside a gas station during a pee stop. We’ve ridden through the rolling hills past The Shoot N’ Star Ranch, The Lone Star Ranch, The Star + Cross Ranch, the plain old Star Ranch—and just about every variation thereafter. Signs to discourage littering say Don’t Mess With Texas. Huge long-horned steer rest in the grass beneath big shady trees. Lone Texas Stars on everything, flags everywhere. Oil wells and pipelines appear throughout the landscape. And, everyone and their mother seems to drive a massive, brand-new truck. Possibly jacked up, and with a Texas flag on it somewhere. I feel my Yankee-ness very keenly. That all being said, people here have been inquisitive, generous and kind, and no one has been anything but gracious. We saw more guns in Louisiana than we have in Texas so, whatever. My stereotypes are showing, I know...
