"Remember the Alamo" - Southern States  DAY 11 - Tue., 19 March 2002

We were planning to get up late on account of having driven the distance last night we needed to cover this morning, hence, we're already at our 9 a.m. stop -- the Alamo.  But, the brilliance of people meant it was not to be.  It seems someone was checking out of this here Motel 6 around 6 a.m. and apparently doesn't know how to work their car alarm.  Typical, of course, but it went off, waking us up, and I'm sure others as well.  After surfing the net for entertaining details about news, weather, and other ducks, we checked out and wandered around until the Alamo opened at 9 a.m.  I was dying to locate a Toys 'R Us and/or Target to look at what LEGO sets may be available in other communities.  (Results:  it's all the same stuff.)

The boy also began swearing a bit when we discovered that the last opportunity, if not already passed, soon would set to have a picture of the Enron Field in Houston.  (The Houston-based team(s?) were planning to buy back the rights to get that ill-fated company's name off their complex.)  sigh... the cost of being  driven, I suppose, is now being paid.  Onward.  We stopped for gas and even got a car wash, the logic being, women would be more likely to talk to us if the Green Spam Can didn't look like was as old as a Ford Pinto.  In the process, we found the car wash had the most adorable sprinkler jets, and there was no actual contact between the car wash equipment and the car at any time.

As we near the Alamo, we find it's conveniently located two blocks from the AlamoDome, and that some neighbors tend to use big words when posting signs (and neglect to realize criminals often don't understand big words).  After passing over the $5 parking lot in lieu for the $3 lot (cheapskate), we enter the Alamo's outer perimeter just as it opened at 9:00 a.m. and stop to peruse the introductory sign.  But, signs aren't really THAT interesting, so we made our way through the gardens (the place has been landscaped and is now quite fetching, actually.)

From the front, you can see the predictable post office, but from there it gets more interesting, historically.  The Daughters of the Republic of Texas were granted custodianship of the Alamo in 1905, so their name and contributions are cited throughout, but generally, it's subtle.  There was the plaque commemorating the 100th anniversary of the fall of the Alamo on March 6, 1836.  I had to get my pic in front of the place, of course, as it was the thing to do.  The front was also adorned with a letter from the commander of the fort just prior to its fall, as well as some bits about the defense of the Alamo.

We toured the building itself (the "shrine", and the long building, but photography wasn't allowed in either place, as the site it considered quasi-sacred in respect to those who died defending the site.  Once back outside, we bumped into a monument erected in dedication to the 32 men from the nearby town who came to the fort to help defend it during the siege of the Mexican Army, and ultimately were killed for their efforts.  (There was also a monument dedicated in 1936 to the men who died in the fort as well, but the photo didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped even after several tries.)

After a stop in the gift shop for an Alamo mug with my name on it, we were on our way.  Yes, there was some talk of doing the River Walk thing, but we couldn't find it within the two minutes the boy provided me to search, and we moved on.  We did find a food truck with an unfamiliar bible passage notation on it, though.  As near as we could tell, it didn't have anything to do with an apology for having parked in such a manner as to completely block traffic across both lanes and the fire lane.  With two shakes of a duck's tail, we were back on the interstate.

An hour later found us in Austin, the capital of this here state of Texas.  Being good tourists, we stopped, took a snap in front of the capital building and a nearby library, and wandered off again.  (And if you're wondering, yes, the two phrases the boy yells out the most is, "It's okay, we're tourists." and "As long as we're redefining the vehicle code's definition of "legal..."  (The latter is usually uttered after he makes a clearly illegal U-turn; either may appear after he drives the wrong way on a One Way street... and it's happened more than once, let me assure you.)

My argument for why I'm not a church-going duck has been I couldn't find a reasonably priced bible.  Well, it seems that, should this retail presence make economic headway in other areas, I would need a new excuse.  After another 100 miles, we found ourselves in Waco, Texas.  As I'm sure you are as well, I was surprised to find there is no memorial or other marker directing travelers to the Davidian complex.  So, we settled for a picture of the sign at Baylor University (like Vanderbilt, I didn't know Baylor was here, of all places.)

With surprises running high, I also found a First Baptist Church in town as well, just down the street from the Dr Pepper Museum.  After being relieved of $4, the boy smuggled me into the place to look around, and perish the thought, learn something.  I now know why there is no period after the abbreviation for Doctor, as well as how "soda pop" got its name.  The museum is independent of any Coca-Cola relationship, but rather, is dedicated to teaching you about the manufacturing and history of soda.  They had a wall of signs, and of machines (it was a big wall, here and here).  We left without making any purchases, largely because it was the usual items (t-shirts, hats, stickers, and of course, soda), and there was a line.  Thus, back on the road with us.

It started raining about 30 miles before Fort Worth, and between the rain and an empty list of places to see, we headed on.  The rain actually came down for hours, with only minutes here and there without pause.  At one point, the boy pulled over to see if we had a flat tire, but it turned out that it was the road... the slow lane (#2 lane) was so heavily indented from trucks that water was pooling into the grooves, and the feeling of a flat tire was actually the car hydroplaning along the water's surface, and not making contact with the road.  Not overly safe, of course. 

The high (low?) point came when the rain and hail were so intense that we couldn't see the end of the hood of the car, even with the wipers as high as we could set them.  We opted to set the hazard lights on and pull over for the few minutes before it lessened in intensity, and once we could actually see further (visibility increased to maybe 100 feet), it turned out the entire site of the road was a parking lot of people doing the same thing.  While most turned off at the rest stop a quarter mile down the road, the Bald Wonder opted to leave the hazard lights on, and drive at an astounding 20-30 miles per hour, just to maintain his precious schedule.  (But on the flip side, no one else was on the road, so there really was little harm.)  As I glanced around (trying not to look at the road, of course), the frontage road that ran along the highway was flooded at every low point between the rolling hills... we literally passed dozens of places where the road looked impassable.  This point was actually one of the most mild we saw, but it wasn't convenient for me to take pictures at some of the others (not worth dying for, mind you.)

Surprisingly, we only passed once accident, a single vehicle event where a semi-truck slid across I-20 from the eastbound side to (our) westbound side, and by sheer luck and the soggy mud, the tractor jack-knifed and sunk into the mud before it went down the embankment.  Since there were already several locals over there hanging out, and being the good New Yorkers we are, we moved ahead.

We arrived an Abilene just to look around, although from looking at the water tower (one of the three elements of founding a town), it wasn't clear where we were.  It wasn't until we saw a city employee in his truck that we could match the logo with the words.  (Sure, we assumed, but there was no proof until Bud drove by in his Chevy Blazer.)  I have no idea what T&P was, but it was there, and worthy of immortalizing.  And yes, I will concede this is not an original building to the town, but you must concede it's a darn cute visitors center -- all train station looking, right there next to the tracks.

We then head down for the final 170 miles from Abilene to Odessa, by way of Midland, Texas, the home of President George W. Bush, apparently, given the signs.  I had to raise an eyebrow when I saw Odessa has a population of 90,000+ folks, too... I didn't think the towns out here were that large, but then again, I guess everything's bigger in Texas.  We wandered the streets (for dinner, what did you think?) after checking into the hotel, but nothing was overly appealing, so we headed back. 

The boy's earlier comments about how he should look into a local adult bookstore, just for grins, was apparently a hoax.  We drove by one, and I called his bluff; no takers.  I even double duck dared him to stop and go in, and nothing.  Thus, I'm sitting here typing away and he's staring at a map like he's Lewis and/or Clark or something.  I'll be glad to get home and get some "me" time; he's starting to get on my nerves.  And the snoring...