Leaving Dallas/Ft. Worth, Weatherford to Bell County Safety Area (164 mi.)

After I finished my visit to Lochwood, I felt like rambling around so I headed over to the Fort Worth Herd to check out the cattle drive. My friend Burke suggested it, probably because he knows I'd flip out over the cows. He wasn't wrong.

I had a snack at one of the establishments within Stockyards Station--a place called Riscky's Barbeque whose very name was begging for a bad time, but I would attribute what was off about the dish more to my late arrival than anything. My waitress was nice and the cook even asked how it was, so I lied and said Great! because it was a small thing, off hours, and I just wasn't feeling like a pill.

Patron!

I didn't stay to watch the herd actually drive from one place to another because I got to meet Patrón, a nice gentleman with long horns and a polite disposition whose entire job was to stand there while people paid $5 to sit on his back and take a picture. The young cowboy in charge of Patrón told me all about him, from the crusty, raised scar on his hiney (a bad brand from the original owner) to just how spoiled rotten Patrón was these days, eating good food, hanging out (the shifts are 2 hours max), getting full veterinary care, and of course getting cooed at all day long by weirdos like me. I thanked the cowboy for answering all of my questions (Patrón is 15, Patrón is the oldest in the lot, Patrón is not named for alcohol, he is named for the real meaning of the word which is The Boss) then asked him about the grackles because I figured at this point he knew everything. He confirmed that they were indeed crazy by nature, but were particularly whackadoodle in March because it is Mating Season (sound the horns! the incredibly loud, annoying horns!). That is what that chicka chicka coconut dance was all about. Seductionnnn (cue Barry White, chicka chicka coconut).

I decided it would be wrong not to visit Burke's town--Weatherford--since it was fairly close and would take me no time to get there. The fun thing about New York is how everyone seems to be from somewhere else, though it is more likely you will meet someone from Jersey than Weatherford or Wichita. Burke and I bonded over our Central/Southern connections, as there are so many similarities. But still, your hometown is always so different when seen through someone else's eyes. Hell, even people from the same place have different perceptions of that place, even though the landmarks are all the same (or close). My first AirBNB host was from Wichita, perhaps a generation older than me, and had very different stories from Wichita, primarily because he was a South sider while I was from Riverside. We could speak on things most people knew from Wichita, e.g. the South side hosted the unforgettable Joyland, with its scary, swaying coaster, and a possessed clown named Louie playing a Wurlitzer organ welcoming terrified children through the gates. But he referenced things I'd never heard of and streets that were unfamiliar, almost to a point where it seemed we couldn't be talking about the same town, until we'd stumble into another shared memory again.

From my POV, Weatherford was a standard, smallish town in Texas, with an abundance of churches and big trucks. When I texted Burke to let him know I was there, I was parked at the Family Dollar next to a Monster Truck--you know the kind, where the truck is jacked way up and the wheels are hilarious? I noticed a lot of auto shops when I drove through, specifically for detailing, so not grubby but semi fancy, and the Parker County Courthouse, which seemed the center of everything because it has a traffic loop around it, was a beautiful Victorian creature that looked oppressive, haunted, and superfun. Oh to go through the hallways! (Google has one review for this beautiful building--one star, apparently the people within it are ruuuuude, so here's hoping they sweat that and make a change in their hearts, but let's not, you know, hold our breaths).

Weatherford also had kitschy touches along the way (a strangely painted barn, lots of old, rambling Victorians painted to look the part) and it also had SuperTarget and Wal Mart, making it about as standard-issue American as it gets. I had threatened that I would find the Applebee's there, if they had one, and partake in the "local cuisine," and wouldn't you know it, they have one, and I did! It was an old Applebee's, too, you could smell the ghosts of cigarettes past. I got there early enough to get the cheap lunch special and witnessed a good number of retirees getting their drink on. At the closest table, the man kept sending his martini order back because that is not how they made them in Miami, then wouldn't let his wife have sweet tea because it had sugar in it. It was time to leave Weatherford.

It seemed like a town with potential, but as Burke says, so much has changed since we were young. Maybe it does now. I know Wichita is certainly different than the place I grew up.

I stayed in my car at the Bell County Rest Area, feeling much more confident than the first time around. However, the place was different, much more out in the open with no tree barrier between the rest stop and the highway, and there were a lot of very bright lights to try to block out. I did finally get settled in and situated, but noticed a lot of big rigs coming into the car side of the facility, which I gathered happens fairly often after everything I read about forced rest and increased trucking in general. I also thought it might be due to the fact that a big storm was coming, but that was just a guess. I fell asleep around 10, then was rudely awakened around 2:30 by thunder and the first smatterings of rain, I made a quick escape for the bathrooms (since by then it was necessary) and just as I was reaching the door, it started pouring.

The Bell County rest areas are just as nice as Navarro's, but I gotta tell you, there's some soul searching that goes on when you are drenched in a cold bathroom, shivering and staring at your own red eyes in the reflection at 2:30 in the morning. Like, who are you? Why are you here? Why did you dye your hair like that? Stop staring at me.

When the rain subsided I ran for the car. I'd had to close the windows so the interior was fast becoming some sort of cold steambox and I wondered if air was coming in (of course it was) and would I die (of course not) because it was 2:45 at that point and I was so tired, but the storm was wide awake and about to start hollering. As I tried to make myself go to sleep, the rain thundered against the roof of the car and lightning flashed on all sides. I was both cold and hot, covering up with a sheet only to kick it off minutes later. Finally, my tiredness took the reigns and I started to drift and relax a bit, eventually I got cold enough to need the big blanket (!) but once wrapped up, I cocooned into sleep for the rest of the night.

Can't wait to do it all over again!!