Sunday morning we decided that we'd adopt a true "road trip" mentality. We got up early and started driving. And drove, and drove, and drove. We saw most of our midwest experience through the windshield.
We cruised through Kansas City (which, oddly enough, is in Missouri), by two-lane back roads south through Kansas, and into Tulsa before turning the key counter clockwise in the ignition and letting the diesel purr down to a halt. We drove through towns called "Herculaneum" and "Lutz." We passed billboards advertising reverse vasectomy services. We resisted signs coaxing us to visit Ozarkland, where they sold t-shirts, peanut brittle, and whittled figurines—they even offered a "free Jesus video"—Ozarkland had everything you could ever desire, but the yellow-striped asphalt kept us moving.
As we drove through Kansas, we let a honky-tonk version of Snoop Dogg's "Gin and Juice" blast through the speakers as soundtrack to the vast expanse of middle America that stretched out on the big-screen of the windshield. We wondered why there were so many year-round fireworks stands out here, and how they possibly stayed in business. We found a huge warehouse that served as a headquarters for Amazon.com in the middle of Kansas (or was it Oklahoma?) And then we camped out at the nicest Wal Mart yet, just outside of Tulsa.
We spent the next day with Jeff and Kristen Howard in McAlester, Oklahoma. We had met Jeff back in Corpus at the U.S. Open, and since we were so close to his neck of the woods, we stopped in. He treated us to a classic Oklahoma lunch at a gas stop grub joint, which he enduringly referred to as one of many "shit-n-gits" popular all over the midwest. The food was fantastic...and cheap...the best combination.
It was the first time we had met Kristen, a teacher. That's junior high teacher. She told us high school was do-able, but she just couldn't do elementary. She had subbed once for a first grade class, so she spoke from experience.
"Put me in a first grade class room," Kristen declared, "and I'll be sure you shot me and sent me to Hell."
How do you really feel, Kristen?
We drove out to some of Jeff's property that he had up for sale: 50 acres out in neighboring Haleyville. His mom had lived up there in a woodsy little cabin surrounded by antiques, stepping stones and fences made of sapling trunks. The optimum back country retreat, in the hills of Haleyville.
Haleyville: population round-about 217. Where the schools let out for deer hunting season. Where folks line up two separate single mobile homes, push them up next to each other and throw a tarp over the gap in the roofs to make an extra-fancy double-wide. Where taxidermy is the number one profession.
It was a great town.
McAlester, Home of Cowboys and Italians.
That night we patronized the local Italian eatery. McAlester, afterall, was home of cowboys and Italians, according to their welcome sign. (Not to mention the annual Prison Rodeo.) It was a cool house-type restaurant, with each table in it's own separate room, and all the food served family-style...unlimited spaghetti, meatballs, and ravioli with your entree. The first item on the menu: Lamb Fries. The description: Tender strips of lamb imported from Iceland, breaded with cracker crumbs and lightly fried. Sounds pretty good, no? Well, Jeff let us in on the secret that the Lamb Fries were akin to Rocky Mountain Oysters. Still not clear, Brant asked the waiter what lamb fries were. After a delayed, embarrased laugh, he broke his momentary silence with a question.
"You know the difference between a bull and a steer? That's lamb fries."
We wrapped up our visit with Jeff and Kristen over a boisterous Italian meal...complete with lamb fries (you gotta try almost everything at least once, right?) Then we hit the road again, making some headway west before that old neccessity, sleep, took the wheel.
Next day, Halloween, we made it into the little top part of Texas—Amarillo to be exact. We made a stop at Amarillo's Cavender's Boot City, the second largest in the state. The goal? A cowboy hat for BP. He wanted one in Texas, and this was the last Texas stop, at least for a while. So we spent about an hour in the western warehouse, and came out equipped with black boots and hat for B. He was a cowboy, now.
The Cowboy.
We drove into the night with a Texas thunderstorm at our backs, and pulled in for the night at the first New Mexico rest stop, just west of Tucumcari.
