I'm writing this in a tire shop in (pause to inquire) Wichita Falls, Texas. And I don't have any words to describe this heat. It's like opening the oven to remove food that's been roasting at 450, only you can neither shut the oven nor remove your head.
Of course, you CAN go inside and get out of the heat. People in the South (notes on "South" later) do love their AC. For some unGodly reason, they like to run the AC right on down to about 52 degrees, I think. So moving in and our of doors seems to be a flip-flop pattern of death-inducing heat>freezer burn>death inducing heat. Seriously. It's just downright weird. I had goosebumps on my arms in a restaurant night before last, yet it was well over 100 outside. I go outside to take the chill off, and then run inside because the first few minutes of AC feels so awesome - but within a few minutes my teeth are chattering and outside I go.
So. We ran from wherever we were day before yesterday to Dallas, TX, to visit with a dear friend - we were later getting there than we'd thought we'd be, since Dapple was fickle and demanded several stops, including one to pull a screw out of one of her shoes. But we did get there, and were offered gallons of very welcome sweet tea, and chatted for a while. We then all took the light rail into the Deep Ellum district of Dallas and had a great dinner, walked a bit, and then took the rail back. At that point we decided to put a hundred miles or so behind us while the air was cool (Dapple prefers cool weather). M drove while I dozed, and we finally pulled into the Bates Motel (I don't recall the name, but that's descriptive enough) in Alvord, Texas.
Now, the Bates motel didn't have a king room, but they had a queen and it was around two in the morning, so we took it gratefully. M parked while I unlocked the room.
Me: Careful walking, they have grasshoppers so big they have to shoot 'em.
M: Grasshoppers aren't that big a deal.
Me: These are.
M: ......................Oh.
The Bates Motel seemed to be having an inconvenient plague of locusts. The proprietor ran right out and showed me to shut the door to the room quickly, you see. So the grasshopper plague doesn't get in. Standing outside the room was an interesting exercise - the grasshoppers randomly arrive in your lap or up your skirt, seeming just as startled to be there as you are.
We were so tired we didn't even notice that the room had almost no lighting; we fell into bed and didn't wake until eleven when the innkeeper called the room to insist we check out. M negotiated a half-hour for our shars, but we moved right along and were back on the road.
Dapple had developed a shimmy that makes for interesting conversation while driving - the sort of conversation you used to amuse yourself with as a child by thumping your chest while talking. So we stopped at a tahr shop here, where they told us that the two fronts are shot, and they're now installing two new/used tahrs. M has a theory about why those tahrs ain't no good, and if I get a chance to write a Dapplelogue, I'll explain that. In the meantime, the girl gets new shoes, and we're in a waiting room, waiting.
Under the Heat Dome. Amazing. And now, having dawdled and Dappled away extra days on the way out, we will be running for home, doing long driving days punctuated by gas stops. (In this terrain, on long driving days, a gas stop is very exciting. I can get out of the truck! I must need SOMETHING in that little store - look, they have Coke Slushees!)
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| now doesn't this place trip YOUR creep-o-meter? |
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