Heading Home

All too soon my Northern exeat was over and I headed back across the bridge to the U.S., where I was given the third degree at the border by an overzealous border guard. "Why were you in Africa?" he asked. "For the hunting, officer." (I wish) But no matter, one truck search over and I was on my way. 

I want this building in Windsor

I stopped outside of Nashville, again, because I'm a traditionalist and I like El Jardin's Mexican food and frozen maragaritas. The next day I drove through to Dallas, stopping at Texarkana to gas up and get a hamburger. Some guy in a fishing shirt wandered over to a Yukon that was waiting in the drive-through line and started swearing at the driver, who looked understandably scared. I watched this from the comparative safety of the side of my pickup, waiting for the shot, but there wasn't one. A vicious little scene inside the Texarkana goldmine.

A Hippy.

An hour or two later Dallas rose out of the heat haze as the traffic roared into town from Rockwall. One day, I suppose, it'll be a ruin and, or, a very large mound, but for now the city prospers. It has few hippies, unlike Austin, where they're a menace.

Good to be back in Texas and, of course, the South.

LSP