Driving across Texas is a three day affair for people of lesser mettle than the crew aboard our Ford Fusion. We stopped in Dallas momentarily to check out a couple of homes we own there (Dallas is weirdly enough a strong rental market) and we were ejected the other side of that ghastly city into the deserts of central and west Texas. This is big sky country of a different order.
These contraptions started to appear bobbing like butlers all along the road, sucking up the last of the oil that once made the US energy independent.
And on and on and on.
Cheyenne seemed a little taken aback by the dry heat, the vast expanses and the repetitive nature of each stop.
Evening saw us 800 miles closer to California and within spitting distance of our bed in the dog friendly Motel Six in the fine urban setting of Van Horn. This metropolis of 2500 hundred souls is named for an Army Lieutenant posted to this fiery hell hole in distant 1859. I wonder what he did to deserve that?
For Cheyenne the lights of the big city represent the end of another tedious air conditioned day in the back of the Ford. 
My wife was surprised to find the local store hadn't stayed open waiting for her to arrive to buy milk for our morning coffee.
A night walk in this spot seemed humane for the furry dog so off we went after we finished our cheese and salami picnic in our room. 
Despite the lack of amenity Cheyenne enjoyed the urban smells left lying around after one more burning hot desert day. 
After a night of air conditioned bliss we ventured forth into a cool dawn out on the desert. By day Van Horn is not much more appealing, frankly. This is the main drag that parallels Interstate Ten.
Van Horn has a homeless population of at least two. The dog is definitely loved and cherished. Look at that alert face. 
where the crossroads actually is, I couldn't say, but I am not a member of the Chamber of Commerce. One gets the impression that the boom years were good for Van Horn, and the Depression not so much. Many store fronts were closed. 
An absurdly optimistic bike rack in the city park that must have been fueled and funded by optimism. 
And watered by an out of control irrigation system. 
Who and how someone put the "V" on the distant mountainside I cannot imagine. 
It was the railroad that kept Van Horn in existence after the stage coaches died out.
I was glad to be back on the road with only six hours to get to Phoenix. 
I often wonder what's going on in Van Horn, now that I am no longer there. Nothing much I guess; a new night, new people passing through
These contraptions started to appear bobbing like butlers all along the road, sucking up the last of the oil that once made the US energy independent.
And on and on and on.Cheyenne seemed a little taken aback by the dry heat, the vast expanses and the repetitive nature of each stop.Evening saw us 800 miles closer to California and within spitting distance of our bed in the dog friendly Motel Six in the fine urban setting of Van Horn. This metropolis of 2500 hundred souls is named for an Army Lieutenant posted to this fiery hell hole in distant 1859. I wonder what he did to deserve that?For Cheyenne the lights of the big city represent the end of another tedious air conditioned day in the back of the Ford. My wife was surprised to find the local store hadn't stayed open waiting for her to arrive to buy milk for our morning coffee.
A night walk in this spot seemed humane for the furry dog so off we went after we finished our cheese and salami picnic in our room. 
Despite the lack of amenity Cheyenne enjoyed the urban smells left lying around after one more burning hot desert day. 
After a night of air conditioned bliss we ventured forth into a cool dawn out on the desert. By day Van Horn is not much more appealing, frankly. This is the main drag that parallels Interstate Ten.
Van Horn has a homeless population of at least two. The dog is definitely loved and cherished. Look at that alert face. 
where the crossroads actually is, I couldn't say, but I am not a member of the Chamber of Commerce. One gets the impression that the boom years were good for Van Horn, and the Depression not so much. Many store fronts were closed. 
An absurdly optimistic bike rack in the city park that must have been fueled and funded by optimism. And watered by an out of control irrigation system. 
Who and how someone put the "V" on the distant mountainside I cannot imagine. It was the railroad that kept Van Horn in existence after the stage coaches died out.
I was glad to be back on the road with only six hours to get to Phoenix. 
I often wonder what's going on in Van Horn, now that I am no longer there. Nothing much I guess; a new night, new people passing through
6 comments:
It's been years, but last time I drove cross country near I-10 I diverted to SR-90 out of San Antonio. It'll take you to Del Rio, and then up to Van Horn, and along that 2-lane highway there is pretty much nothing. Road runners, satellite dishes, and lots of sky. One of the best stretches of road I've ever driven.
Cheers,
Cindy
Dear Conschooter:
Please don't let this go to your head, but the picture of the homeless person, protected by the dog, was the best photograph you hasve ever taken. If you ever find yourself in similar position, give the homeless person $25 for dog food, and I'll mail it to you.
The train tracks were the next best shot. Shiny rails indicate frequent trains. The slight wobble and the rolling hills make these tracks look like they cam from my layout.
Your road trip is preying on my mind. I am dieting like a prisoner and planning on retracing the steps of my youth on a weekend run at the end of this month.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Mr Conchscooter
I noticed that you love to photograph railway tracks, infinity view. You've got us all wondering now what is going on in Van Horn. Perhaps the local Chamber of Commerce could put in a webcam showing the main area.
It looks like a good place for the Mac Pac or the rIEPE crew to have a gathering and just take over the whole town
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
They say Texas is like a whole other country. Some think they should go ahead and secede, but then we still need some of that oil.
I have a sister that lives between Dallas and Fort Worth, but I am not a fan of the area. It is too big and busy for my tastes.
Lots of miles for you. Cheyenne seems to be handling it okay.
I drove through that area one July in the early 1990s traveling from Hatch, New Mexico to Houston, Texas and then to College Station, Texas.
One of the most awesome things I've seen were the dust devils an hour or two east of El Paso. There were three of them in a row miles to the south of the Interstate as well as a few smaller dust devils scattered around. I could see those three dust devils for at least an hour -- from when they were off to the right in front of me to when I could see them off to the right behind me long after I was past.
I'm used to dust devils. When I was a kid, I'd run into them or try to ride a horse through them. My horse didn't share the same enthusiasm for the idea as I did. But those dust devils east of El Paso were nothing like I had ever seen before or have seen since.
I liked the picture of the dog and his owner also and Jack that is so sweet of you. Have save trip.
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