Texas

Left our well-appointed quonset hut this morning for a long day of driving.  By 2:30 we left Louisiana for Texas: "drive friendly." Hmmmm...sounds like a good idea. Our first exit number is 875....in Florida it is 380, for comparison. We are heading right through the widest part of Texas, on a single highway, with no turns. We are listening to the first of our books on tape: The Last Gunfight, the real history behind the legend of the shootout at the OK corral. Wyatt Erp was a childhood hero,  along with Daniel Boone, Kit Carson, and the other mountain men. My brother had a coonskin cap and we both had our own toy 6 shooters. I am sad to hear my hero's documented stories. The author keeps comparing the stories to the legends of Camelot, but because the problem with the Arthurian legends is a lack of documentation, the truth doesn't tarnish the shine of the tales the way it does in this book. I sort of wish I didn't know,  but the picture drawn of the west is fascinating. 

Louisiana was waterlogged,  but Texas so far just seems flat. The traffic is interesting. We passed a gigantic pipe that I could walk upright in,  a modular home complete with venetian blinds,  and big fans, the kind you see in movies where the hero has to slip through the slowly revolving blades. In Texas maybe everything is big.