Leaving Houston, North Houston to the Navarro Rest Area (165 mi.)

Aside from the toasty, globally warmed welcome, I really liked Houston. The traffic made sense after I got used to it, and all the distinctive neighborhoods were interesting and memorable. And while they were distinct, they were all bound by the same reaching trees and gabby grackles, which I came to truly understand as a Real Annoyance. Cute as hell, loud as sin. And they never. Shut. Up.

Before doing anything else, I decided to stalk a famous movie setting, the Houston home of Aurora Greenway in Terms of Endearment. First, I was kind of shocked at how easy it was to look up online, but I was happy that it took me right past the oogity boogity Williams Tower once more, dropping me into a neighborhood adjacent to the downtown area. And it really is right there, just off the highway, where you leave the grill grinding kill-or-be-killed speedway to find yourself in a very upscale neighborhood, driving past beautiful houses, any of which would have been a suitable choice for the film. I stopped for a hot second to snap a quick pic, then headed to the end of the street, turned right, and drove slackjawed through what can only be described as Seriously Massive Mansion Row. These were not McMansions--these were gorgeous, historic homes built for oil barons and their kin--the neighborhood is called River Oaks. I didn't dare stop to photograph it for myself, but there's plenty of images already online if you are interested.

I was sad that I could not spend the last day in Houston in a library--only outdoor venues were available--so I opted for the aforementioned Barnes and Noble in North Houston. Since B&N is not interested in people roosting in the Cafe indefinitely, electrical outlets are not available, so I was at the whim of my laptop's battery. When I finally had to leave, I decided to just go and see where the roads took me. 

North Houston is a juxtaposition of attitudes. I started out in the "Champions" part of town, where the roads were "Champions" this or "Champions" that, with surrounding areas named for Kings this-and-that on top of it, but moved eastward to the Humble part of north Houston, which still boasted Kings this-and-that but at least wasn't blatting on about it every second (Champions Golf Course, Champions Auto Parts, Champions Pet Grooming). Luckily, there is no Champions High School to bear the burden of that title...though I suppose it would make for sly headlines every time they got trounced in some odd sporting event. 

I eventually found my way to the Deerbrook Mall in Humble and while I spent little time inside, there was one corner of it that made me giddy with joy. Here's the thing: I love malls. LOVE THEM. Not so much the refurbished ones, though, even though I do understand why they have to do it. I love old malls, especially ones that have retained their original identities and decorative 60s-70s-and 80s flair. While Deerbrook has clearly been updated, it hasn't lost all of it's charm. Here is the interior--standard mallage, white, white white, devoid of character, etc.:

But one of the entrances to Dillard's (of all places, and no I did not cry) still retained that original 1984 whimsy: The giant glass overhang that serves no purpose other than to be crazy, give over-the-top shelter of sorts, and create a terrarium like environment when coupled with the jungle planter offset from the main doors. Look at this majesty.

After hanging out there for a while (malls are stupid, I know, and for someone who has cut away almost all material possessions, they are next to useless except to go smell giant pretzels but never buy one because they are never as good as their aroma would suggest) I hemmed and hawed about dinner until finally settling on Kublai Khan, which serves Mongolian stir fry and sushi. Feeling as wishy washy as I did, I lucked out in finding this place and forcing myself to make a decision: Hands down some of the best sushi I've ever had. Didn't even need the soy sauce. I had the Shaggy Dog and the spicy tuna roll and both were intensely flavorful and phenomenal. I would highly recommend this place to anyone in the area...though one word of warning (and I hate to say it, but as a traveler I must): avoid the bathroom at all costs. It needs a thorough scrub down and repair/update or vice versa. It really is too bad that such a great place (great food, great atmosphere, excellent service) would suffer from such a fixable problem. 4/5 stars!

I mentioned before that I was a bit of a squirrel yesterday--hard to make a decision, twisting in the wind, etc.--and all the reasons I've listed thus far are valid and true, but the one I didn't want to mention until it was over was still on the horizon...like, the actual, literal freaking horizon, and I was too nervous to jinx it by talking about it before it happened. But let's take a breath and look at this sunset from Humble, Texas, and be thankful for our atmosphere and the suns rays and our very improbability in this universe.

One of the things I am doing on this trip is saving money by staying in my car some nights. I've done my research, I know where to go, and in which states it is legal and in which states it is not. Texas is cool with it. You can stay in their rest areas for 24 hours so long as you don't set up a tent or start barbecuing in front of your RV (besides there are picnic areas provided where you can do that sort of thing if you really, really must). I bought the Rogue because it has a huge amount of space for a compact SUV, 70 cubic feet once you fold down the back seats. This fits a twin air mattress easily (you have to tip the front seats up a bit) and I threw in some pillows, sheets, and blankets for good measure. All in you-don't-see-me black. And all my camping gear, cooler, etc. fit in the footwells below, making the whole ride a nice little house on wheels. Getting in is a bit of a comedy, but I'm getting the hang of it. I basically have to launch myself in through one of the back doors (not the hatch), get situated, and lock myself in. 

When I pulled up to the Navarro Rest stop (northbound) it was only about 9:30, and I knew I was up for an interesting night regardless because lightning had been threading through the clouds for the last hour of my drive. I won't deny yelling quite a bit at the unbridled audacity of the display--horizontal lightning that appears to streak across miles of sky is quite simply mind bending. I got things situated and ran into the facility to take care of the Goodnight Procedures (wash face, brush teeth, other) then made my way back to the car, more giddy than scared, but still looking out for danger, threats, monsters. I cracked the back windows for a cross breeze, launched into by "bedroom," closed the door, locked up the car, and used the hold bars to put up some barriers of sorts to fortify the privacy a bit. The windows are already tinted, but a little more doesn't hurt. It was warm (of course) and it took a while for my mind to stop racing, so eventually I turned to my grandmother's voice, when she would try to get the grandkids to take a nap. In my head, on repeat, "Settle down, settle down." Still it took over an hour to calm down and cool down. In the meantime, the highway roared in the distance, and people pulled off and on, mostly for bathroom breaks, but often for smoke breaks. Lightning continued to streak and flow and burn through the sky all around me, but only a few drops fell. It was just a light show it seems, as it never really rained, but somehow that assurance--that it was just lightning flashing against my closed eyes and not stranger danger (I've watched far too many episodes of Criminal Minds, okay)--and the sound of my grandmother's voice finally set me to sleep. I woke up once to go to the bathroom (I didn't bother to check the time--it was infinity o'clock, just half past the dead of night) and there were a few people rambling around, but the highway had quieted significantly, and finally, Finally, stars. I was too groggy to enjoy them much. I fell back asleep and was awakened by my phone alarm at 8 this morning. 

Aside from the general weirdness of it, here are my takeaways from the first experience of Sleeping in the Car:

1. It was amazing. Once I settled down, I realized just how freaking comfortable I was. This air mattress cost me something like $7.44 (ha, at Wal Mart, where else) and we will see how long it lasts, but I can say that this first night was an absolute dream. It was so cozy and I have no aches and pains from it at all.
2. Once the cross breeze settled in and the temperatures dropped (I believe it went all the way down to 60 last night), it actually got chilly and I needed the sheet. 
3. I parked at the edge of the parking lot, but it was still not that far from the front door to the facility, so there was some semblance of privacy with that still much needed sense of human contact just by proximity. 
4. The Navarro facility is ridiculously nice and I have no illusions that future stops of this sort will not always be at this level of posh. It was a comfort, I will admit, especially on that first venture into Sleeping in the Car. Not that I am deluded enough to think that Criminal Minds stuff won't happen even at super nice rest stops. Remember that facade of order that brings comfort to the human animal? In this case I must allow myself to buy into it fully and completely.

However...and this is the darksided part of the adventure: What if? When I would tell my plans to new people, I would search their faces for judgment, awe, terror, what have you, especially when I brought up sleeping in the car. It's not a first choice for anyone. But honestly, we can get into that "Facade of safety" idea that I mentioned before, and if you take the wooded path down where the panic disorder folks live, they will be the first to tell you that you are going to die (or be hurt, or violated, pick your grim imagined scenario) right in the safety of your locked, well-lit home. Once you've stacked up the anxiety attacks and have all the brain blisters and scars to prove it, no place feels safe. Ask Erin Andrews, or Danny Torrance, or your average, middle class homeowner (though it is all about perception, isn't it?). I'm already spending more money than I'd like on lodging (AirBNB, camping, hotel), and may consider more car sleeping in the second leg, once I have the experience of the first leg firmly under my belt. 

I slept, and that should tell you all you need to know. But if you happen to be passing through Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Utah, or Colorado, and you have to stop for a quick break at a rest stop, be cool. You might see a couple of ferret-y eyes peering at you from the depths of a Nissan Rogue. It isn't stranger danger, I promise. I'm just trying to settle down.