2018 Chrysler Pacifica – 3,000 Miles, 9 States, 1 Pandemic – PART 2
May 2020.
Like finding an In and Out in California, visiting Whataburger in Texas is mandatory. As with In and Out, Whataburger was founded by and operated by one family for more than 70 years. However, the Dobson family sold Whataburger to a private equity firm in 2019.
It’s a standard burger, nothing life changing, but it’s satisfying and free of gimmicks or surprises. For me it’s about the spicy ketchup.
My order took a while so I used my Blackberry to read about the area and came across a story about the Texas Killing Fields, an area along I-45 between Houston and Galveston near the Houston Space Center where several teenage girls and young women were abducted and killed from 1971 to 2006. One man was wrongly convicted after being tortured into confessing. Yikes.
After lunch I headed down the I-45 causeway to the beach. It was packed but cases of the Wuhan virus continued to fall throughout the season thanks to favorable weather encouraging people to hang outdoors.
Sadly, there were no “JESDA” keychains at the gift shop on the pier. An approaching tropical storm loomed in the distance.
After Houston we headed west to San Antonio. I felt immediate relief as Houston’s congestion and chaos gave way to San Antonio’s calmer, friendlier demeanor. The air is cleaner, the traffic is calmer, and people go about their business in a less frantic, more relaxed manner.
It was on this leg that I experienced Bucees, a chain of gas stations boasting the world’s largest number of pumps, the longest car wash, and probably a record for the largest fudge counter. Inside they sell everything from hot food to desserts (so. much. damn. fudge.), cowboy hats and boots, beef jerky and cured meats, souvenirs, and a wide enough selection of drinks to hydrate the Sonoran Desert. It’s what you’d find at any gas station but with needlessly vast quantities and varieties. Properly, delightfully Texas.
After a long day of travel we checked into a Drury Inn and called it a night.
Like me, my friend John was laid off from his job in Minnesota so he packed his things, listed his house for sale, and headed south to stay with his parents, crashing in an RV behind the house. We drove up to see him.
The Hill Country is region of Texas with lakes, rivers, elevated land, and mixed vegetation. People come for wineries, restaurants, floating, and boating, a place where the locals go to escape. It’s become increasingly affluent with the growth of tech jobs in Austin and San Antonio, where migrating Californians are buying up property and building luxury homes.
John is “that guy” — the irritating middle aged fellow who buys a Crown Vic as a personal vehicle and annoys the rest of us as we nervously tap our brakes thinking he’s a cop. To his credit, he comes from a legacy of law enforcement with his father’s “FIVE OH” Minnesota license plate on display at the outdoor music venue in Luckenbach, Texas. He’s also tastefully modified the wheels, aero, and lighting to look less like a Police Interceptor and more like a Mercury Marauder.
The ‘Vic is an impressively modern, pleasant car in civilian form, the cushy leather buckets providing far more comfort than the plastic back benches some of us experienced in our youth. It shifts quickly, steers nicely, and looks crisp and cleanly tailored. The only clue to the age of Ford’s Panther chassis is the short dashboard that brings the windshield up close.
We explored some touristy main streets where we picked up souvenirs, ate too much ice cream, and gorged on brisket and sausage. John took us to Luckenbach, an 1840s western town with an official population of three, to hear live music and look around. Willy Nelson and other artists made the place famous as a hub for outlaw country, a style of western music that defied the corporate control of Nashville.
We then drove around the hills, enjoying the scenic openness of the country and headed north to Austin for a car meet.
The following day we headed to another small town from two the 1840s, Gruene. If you couldn’t tell by the town names thus far, this part of Texas is home to German settlers. Gruene’s claim to fame is Gruene Hall, a dance hall and music venue established in 1878 where Greg Allman and Willie Nelson previously performed. These days Gruene is a place for float trips on the Guadalupe River (which was packed that day), wine, dining, and antiques. At the Gruene General Store I bought a scoop of Blue Bell ice cream, one of Texas’s most iconic exports.
I should mention that the Pacifica has been flawlessly comfortable, quick, and quiet the entire trip, averaging roughly 24mpg with a heavy right foot. I was planning to take it all the way to California and head up the coast until I got a call from my old job asking me to come back and work remotely full time. I asked my boss if I could delay starting for a couple weeks but apparently my department was swamped. I hadn’t yet figure out how to travel while reliably working remote (more on that soon), so I headed straight back to Missouri.
To continue avoiding protest season I picked a route home with the fewest big cities, a route that unfortunately ran parallel to a tropical storm.
Most of the trip back was a damp, stormy mess on dimly lit rural roads. I did get a chance to see Bill Clinton’s childhood home in Arkansas… from the outside… in the rain… because it was closed due to the virus.
The rest of Arkansas was a drenched, sloppy drive home. While the western highlands of Bill’s home state are a highly underrated scenic delight, the eastern half is mostly flat with enough bugs to fill a stadium.
I pulled into the Hertz parking lot, dropped the keys to the unexpectedly excellent Pacifica into the drop box, and called a Lyft for a ride home. I’d be on the road again soon.
Leave a Reply