Day 1, 12:30 PM: Headed to Houston to start the trip. Windows down, music blasting, wind whipping hair into bird’s nest frenzy. I never comb it anyway.
Have friends in Houston, love the city, always have fun there. Except in the summer when it’s hotter than walking on the sun.
But lo! What do I see by the roadside: small-town barbecue joint. Pull over for lunch immediately.
The place is decorated with the trophy heads of various animals the owner has killed. I ask if I they are serving any of these animals, as I am not in the mood for moose or boar. Man at counter assures me “no.” Phew. It’s still intimidating nonetheless.
Notice the coyote carcass statue is right next to where they keep the forks and trays. Very nice touch. The food, of course, was delicious–big plates filled with smoked meat and corn and whatever else they feel like putting on there, all cooked in the hard-core carnivore way that only a 90-year-old man in rural Texas can cook it. The owner walked through the place and greeted every single person with a “Thank you very much for coming, we appreciate your business.” It’s like I’m dining with a Wal-Mart greeter. Except Wal-Mart doesn’t have any carcass heads on the walls.
