Drive I-10 again… and again… and, again. (Feel a bit like “Charlie on the MTA”). Seem to remember: you can drive across Texas for a long time… and still be in Texas.
Pause briefly in McNary, as ruins of a couple of businesses attest to Interstate’s ability to destroy social fabric: no doubt, these once thrived with local and long-distance visitors… now, they are but husks listening to I-10’s susurrus.
Pull off into Sierra Blanca to check out its historic railroad museum, but have arrived a couple days late… open only on Wednesday (figure THAT one out). A charming, simple church (something one would expect in a “Magnificent Seven” film) stands stark against a cloud-filled, blue sky.
There is a curious feeling, noticed elsewhere and often, that no one ventures out on foot. Occasionally, dusty pick-up trucks casually float through “Stop” signs, but other indications of townspeople remain sparse.
Pause briefly in Van Horn to see if “Historic Hotel El Capitan” meets its billboard promise, but, must admit, have seen better.
Settle in Ft Stockton, but realize, “have miles to go” before fulfilling my “promises to keep”