8-20-12 BBQ
Late to rise on Monday, we forsook breakfast and opted for lunch from one of the few remaining open-pit barbecue establishments in DFW, Smokey John's. I'd been craving more BBQ since Longview, and Smokey John's did not disappoint. Fatty brisket, sausage, mac & cheese, collard greens, corn bread, and sweet tea, all lovingly prepared by family hands, according to family recipes. Best meal of the year? Maybe. After we had thoroughly gorged ourselves, we just wandered around, trying to kill the time until rush hour let up. The rest of Monday doesn't really matter, Smokey John's just overshadows everything else.
8-21-12 GO WEST
I tried to get up early so I could hit the road before it got too hot, but what with goodbye's, restocking, and traffic, I didn't escape the clutched of Fort Worth until 11:00. Happy to get off the interstate, I jumped on US 180, a west-bound arrow of a road that would take me straight to New Mexico.
The trip counter rolled over on 2000 miles in Lamesa, TX, a charming town about an hour east of NM. It was near enough dinner time that I asked the gas station attendant where I could find a good home-cooked meal (is that too cheesy?), and she directed me to Jalisco, a Guadalajaran taqueria. Not exactly what I had in mind, but whatever. Pretty standard Mexican fare. I'm sure there's a distinct difference between Guadalajaran enchiladas and Yucatan enchiladas, but I sure couldn't taste one.
Bloated with beans and tortilla chips, I made the final push for the border, and crossed over into Hobbs, NM, where I found respite from the glaring, orange check engine light that had been nagging me for the past 30 miles. The Autozone computer told me it was something to do with the catalytic converter or the oxygen sensor. The same generic diagnosis that stopped me in bumville, Arkansas on last summer's roadtrip. With no noticeable performance issues to worry about, I moved on towards a little picnic table marker I had seen on the map, just outside of Loco Hills, NM.
Highway 529 got really dark, without the moon to lend an eerie glow. I pulled over to rest my eyes, and was immediately engulfed by the night. Eventually the stars started to poke through the black, and then the hazy glow of the Milky Way. The only sounds were the very occasional passing truck, and the spooky, disembodied wail and groan of a nearby oil derrick.
It was starting to get late, so I drove the remaining few miles, hoping the people of Loco Hills were still picnic area patrons. Sure enough, a blue sign pointed me to a barren roadside collection of tables and benches that looked to me as good as a Motel 6 for the night. I curled up and closed my eyes, hoping this wasn't one of the favorite spots of the more loco inhabitants of Loco Hills, New Mexico.
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