So Texas is a pretty big frickin' state.

We’ve been driving all day long going a steady 80/mph and still haven’t managed to make it even a third of the way across. First impressions are that it’s really flat and there might not be a whole lot to do in way of entertainment aside from driving a pickup blowing donuts all day long. The predominant colors are bleached blond grass against the pale cloudy sky – it’s actually very pretty in a Zen-like way. I thought for sure someone would have shot at us by now being our license plate says we’re from California and we’re driving a Subaru, but so far people have seemed downright friendly. We stopped in Amerilla to pick up some gas, a cell phone charger and fast food – I can’t believe I actually witnessed Nicole mow down on a Wendy’s burger like it was no big deal. Thankfully we haven’t had to eat a whole lot of food like that because we’ve been taking the time to investigate better food options but today we just had to haul ass and not care too much.

Driving through Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico along Hwy 40 or “old route 66” has been eye-opening. It’s really strange to see such vastness and sparsely inhabited areas after living in the most populated state in the country, or being the only car on a lonely highway after doing a daily commute into San Francisco and contending with agro drivers going out of their way to tail you just to prove a point. I think we’ve seen a total of 3 BMW’s on the road since we left California, the predominant vehicles out here are big rigs. It’s pretty crazy to think there’s such a housing shortage in metropolitan areas along the coasts when cities out here are suffering from the opposite, not enough people.

We’ve noticed evidence of better times for towns along route 66 when the great American road trip was how people spent their vacations. Lots of old dilapidated billboards lined up for miles offering fireworks, “Indian hand-woven rugs” (do Native Americans refer to themselves as Indians or is that just a convenient marketing tool? I don’t get it), onyx chess sets, Dairy Queen, leather jackets, bull horns, gator heads, etc. The promise of a giant open market filled with Native Americans in full head dress and pawning unique treasures was squelched when we discovered these were nothing more than glorified gas station convenient marts. I was so disgusted I didn’t even bother buy any fireworks. We did savor our DQ treats but opted to scarf them in the safety of the car.