Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
We really had no idea that cowboys were so short. From Shreveport to Dallas / Ft. Worth, Dad and I noticed that the trees were starting to shrink a bit. This was worrisome. From Ft. Worth westward, the trees had considerable trouble rising to the level of trees. They seemed gnarled, twisted in knots, stunted, and in pain. Take a stately oak, dry it out and shrink it, then afflict it with rheumatoid arthritis, and presto, you have these scratchy little imitations of trees.
Now, we know from books and movies (mainly from movies) that when a villain in the old west was hanged, they found a suitable tree from which to hang him. Dad and I searched the countryside between Ft. Worth and Amarillo today, and could hardly find a suitable specimen (of the tree, I mean, not the villain). They were just too short, as the photograph at right shows. The only reasonable conclusion we could draw was that cowboys were very short, and the villains shorter still, which had the advantage of making them easier to pick out in a crowd. Nevertheless, I had questions:
Me: “I still don’t understand. How did they hang the bad guy from such low branches?”
Dad: “They kicked the Shetland Pony out from under him.”
But if the trees were small, the rivers were smaller still. I remember driving on I-10 years ago and crossing the famous Pecos River. So many movies featured a gunman who was billed as the “fastest draw west of the Pecos.” The Pecos, it turns out, was narrow enough that I could have jumped over it without a running start. Better to call it the Pecos Ditch. We crossed several such river ditches today, spending most of the drive in the famous Red River Valley. But the Red River wasn’t a river, nor was it a ditch. It was wide enough to deserve a bridge, but it was really just red mud. In Wichita Falls, Texas, we found the Red River Harley Davidson store.
Oh yes. Did I mention that my Dad, in the prime of his mischief at 70 years of age, recently bought a Harley? Yes sir, and he wanted me to take a gander at one of their stores. The staff was pleasant beyond necessity, and they provided free Starbucks coffee in the bargain. Perusing the merchandise, I could begin to understand the enticement of the whole Harley mystique. The roar of a powerful motor, the feeling of utter freedom and independence on the open road satisfies on an almost primal level. As a trucker, I can understand the feeling. The bikes in the showroom were works of art. The heated jackets and gloves were unique, as were their prices. Dad found a Harley travel mug to his liking, and told the ladies behind the counter that he and I were on our way to California. They gave us each a Harley Davidson poker chip, wished us a safe journey, and we were on our way.
In short order, a sign alerted us to the fact that we were entering East Bellevue, Texas. I downshifted to 9th gear, preferring not to contribute to the town’s coffers any more than absolutely necessary. As the rear of my trailer cleared the sign that said “East Bellevue,” the front of my truck was passing a sign that said, “West Bellevue.” At least it seemed that way. Bellevue has a population of 364, according to both signs, and we surmised that the total must include the cattle. We saw more of them roaming about the place than we did people. Traveling through these small towns is one of the true joys of this job. The antique buildings, the friendly faces, the lack of traffic lights, it’s just wonderful.
We drove through several of those little places today. In one town we saw the “Wired Rabbit Bar and Grill,” and instantly wished we had more time to check the place out. In another, we drove by “Jo-Bob’s Piccadilly Circus Pizza,” which coincidentally and conveniently is located right next to “Jo-Bob’s Bush Hog Service.” Jo-Bob is a busy guy, and I’m all for small businesses, but it does seem a strange and unsettling mixture of enterprises.
While Dad has flown to California several times previously, this is his first trip on the ground, going west of Dallas. The contrast in landscape is startling and will become more so in the days ahead. “This is truly amazing,” he said, looking at the gently rolling plains, the seemingly endless landscape uninterrupted by trees or structures of any kind until it looked as if it might bump into the bright blue sky on the horizon. “It’s just so beautiful,” he said, adding, “It’s worth fighting for.” To which I can only add, yes Sir, it is worth fighting for. It’s what he and every other veteran has indeed fought for, and it’s what I’ve thought of as my office for the last seven years in the cab of an 18 wheeler. To get out and see this wonderful country is a privilege. To enjoy it with my Dad is a joy beyond description. Besides, how else would I have come to appreciate short cowboys?
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Comments :
May '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Out here in Californie, all the cowboys are tall! Broke, too, thanks to the guv'mint. And the trees are tall, too.
Starbucks coffee at the Harley Dealers? Well, things aren't like they used to be, I guess. Can't even smoke in the showroom, i bet.
The great thing about those little towns in Texas is their stone courthouses. And the best chicken-fried steak I've ever had was in Johnson City. With iced tea.
All the best to you and your Dad.
Jul '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Dave, where's your California destination? Sounds like you're headed South. Bad move, brother.
Come on up to God's country....
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Kenneth: Dave, where's your California destination? Sounds like you're headed South. Bad move, brother.
Come on up to God's country.... · Jan 27 at 8:25pm
Kenneth, I've no idea what the ultimate destination will be. I've requested to go in Peter's general direction, and since I now have a dispatcher that reads maps, there is a chance it could work out. But ultimately, we're chained to the freight. Film at eleven.
Jul '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Dave Carter
Kenneth: Dave, where's your California destination? Sounds like you're headed South. Bad move, brother.
Come on up to God's country.... · Jan 27 at 8:25pm
Kenneth, I've no idea what the ultimate destination will be. I've requested to go in Peter's general direction, and since I now have a dispatcher that reads maps, there is a chance it could work out. But ultimately, we're chained to the freight. Film at eleven. · Jan 27 at 8:31pm
A little farther north, Dave. You, your dad and I can stand atop the Marin highlands and look down on the Golden Gate Bridge, wreathed in fog, and across the strait to the gleaming Gomorrah beyond, where dwelleth the Lady Diane.
May '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Since there's no "Like" button for posts, I'm an admitted "Like"-aholic, here's my LIKE!
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Thank ya kindly there nice lady,...as we cowpokes "like" to say....
Sep '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Jo-Bob's, huh? Used to be a place a half mile down the street from me advertising "Used tires and Bar-be-que". Should'a tried it.
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
I wouldn't touch a set-up like that for a free weekend on Miami Beach...
May '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Dave, my dad was a free-lance court reporter and used to travel all over the Midwest to take depositions. In many cases, the witnesses were in small towns. During high school and when home from college, I traveled with him through, and to, a lot of them to help him with his equipment and keep him company. As you described in your fun story, America is not New York or LA. It's all these small towns that no one but a handful of people who live there know about and each one has its own story and character. Some are more charming than others, but I'm grateful they're all there and I always enjoy meeting the locals.
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Exactly, Andrea. Even though I'm just passing through these towns, the character of the little place is always in evidence. They are unique, and uniquely American. But the little trees still have me perplexed...
May '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Dave Carter
I wouldn't touch a set-up like that for a free weekend on Miami Beach... · Jan 27 at 9:12pm
I can match that. Down the street from where I worked in San Bruno was a greasy spoon called "Tarzans," that advertised "Warm Beer, Lousy Food." It was truth in advertising, all right.
May '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Dad's a cowboy, on the steel horse he rides. Wanted, dead or alive.
Shetland ponies! Steer well clear of San Fran as well. I hear tell there's a level-five Smug Alert.
Jul '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
On the size of trees: the tree is generally the mirror image of the roots. As the roots grow down and out, so goes the tree up and out. Here in North Texas We sit on the Barnett Shale; meaning rock. Add to the fact that We can go months without precipitation with growing in nearly solid rock and You can appreciate those poor trees are doing everything They can to be as big as They are Here.
Dec '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Okay, the trees are called mesquite, and your description of a stunted, arthritic oak is apt. On the other hand, If you cut a stick out of mesquite, and another from the hardest oak you can find, and you beat them against each other, eventually you get a stick of mesquite and a pile of oak splinters.
Incidentally, the oily wood of the mesquite tree, when soaked in water and placed inside of a unique southwestern device called a smoker, can turn a common slab of beef brisket into a slice of heaven.
May '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
I knew someone who knows about trees would eventually chime in. If mesquite is so hard why don't they use it to make furniture?
Dec '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
You want stunted, arthritic furniture?
Actually, they do. I'm looking at my diploma framed in mesquite. But straight boards are hard to come by, and as has been discussed, the trees are small.
May '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
I never considered before that smoking meat with mesquite might be a regional practice. Does anybody know? Too often, I assume that the things I know are normal everywhere.
In San Antonio, mesquites and oaks are about all there is. You can tell if you're standing on dirt or rocks by the trees.
Thankfully, in my part of Texas, it's pines and evergreens, punctuated by vegetative guests from all over the world. In the woods behind my house, there's even a section where bamboo grows wild. Meanwhile, people grow palm trees, cacti, ferns and everything in between in their yards.
I hope y'all get to see a lot more of Texas, Dave. If you weren't hauling a trailer, I'd advise you to pull onto the shoulder just outside of Austin for one of those homemade jerky sellers.
Andrea, you can find mesquite furniture in some shops in Old Town Spring and other places around here. But I'd recommend visiting the antique shops in Tomball for good furniture. Carpenters a century ago were true sculpters, and their furniture was built to last.
Nov '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
In south Texas the mesquite trees are a lot bigger. Wouldn't want to have to get up into it to tie someone up, though - they have thorns long enough to go through a boot, and usually in the most inconvenient places, too.
Green mesquite wood smoke smells absolutely horrible. Once it's aged, though, it's absolutely wonderful.
Dec '10
Re: Small Towns, Small Trees, and Big Fun
Jimmeh is quite correct; if the roots can't get down, the branches can't get up. Cypress trees in Florida swamps can grow to hundreds of feet, but in the Everglades, they are called, "Dwarf Cypress"; the reason is that the limerock is only a foot or two beneath the mucky soil.
When you get up into the High Plains (say, Wyoming), trees become mighty scarce. For those not driving a big truck, this is a problem that compounds the lack of Rest Areas. Eventually, there's nothing else to be done and you have to just pull over, fully visible for 10 miles in each direction.