(Cross-posted to EastlandSpin.com)
About a week ago, I finished packing our belongings into a 14-foot U-Haul trailer, hooked up the car to a tow dolly, and began my trek west and north to the Texas Panhandle. It’s a route I’ve traveled lots of times to visit the family, but this time, it’s one-way.
First, there were some last goodbyes. There were hugs and farewells to Christy and her son Robert, who helped us get things loaded. They’ve been good friends for years, and I’ll miss them both. I made a side trip 10 miles in the wrong direction for one last goodbye to Melvis. My “little girl” is on her own and working now, and after spending nearly seven months with her mom in Illinois, didn’t want to leave just yet.
After that, it was lunch at McDonalds, when J-Boy took part in an American rite of passage and ate his first Big Mac. He loved it. I stuck with the McChicken sandwich.
Then, it was time to being the trip in earnest, but it almost ended before we even left town. I was almost hit by an 18-wheeler while trying to merge onto Interstate 20. The driver had not moved over to the other lane, even though he could have. No harm done to anyone, thankfully.
There’s not a lot of what could be called impressive scenery between Eastland and Sweetwater. The rolling plains are nice to look at, but there’s nothing that makes you say “whoa”. That changed after we left I-20 for U.S. Highway 84, and drove past the little town of Roscoe (pop. 1300). The last time I had been in this area, over a year ago, it was cotton fields as far as the eye could see. Now, though, something else dominates the landscape.
From a few hundred yards from the road, and stretching back to the horizon line, were hundreds of gigantic wind turbines. Wind energy is the new cash crop in Roscoe, which now hosts one of the biggest wind farms in the nation and the world. The turbines followed along the highway for almost 10 miles, and they were always in motion, generating electricity that could run hundreds of thousands of homes. I don’t know how much this will help ease dependence on oil, but it can’t hurt. And if there’s something there’s plenty of in West Texas, it’s wind.
We continued north and west through small and smaller towns: Hermleigh, Snyder, Fluvanna. We passed through Post (pop. 3700), a town founded in 1907 by cereal manufacturer C.W. Post as a utopian community venture. I don’t know if having a Pizza Hut, a McDonalds and a Subway in a town the size of Post can be seen as utopian.
We reached Lubbock, the “Hub Of The South Plains” at twilight.
Lubbock was the home of rock and roll legend Buddy Holly, and also to country singers and songwriters like Joe Ely, Mac Davis and Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks. It’s also pretty isolated — surrounded by cotton fields — so maybe that’s why many of them chose to leave.
Remembering the old adage “eat where the truckers eat”, J-Boy and I stopped for dinner at a truck stop just outside Lubbock. The chicken-fried steak was wonderful. The nachos, not so much.
After that, it was back on the road, and through towns like New Deal, Plainview (and it is a plain view), Tulia, Happy (the “Town Without A Frown”), and Canyon. J-Boy started noticing a unique smell in the air. I told him, “Welcome to cattle country, son.”
It was around 10 p.m. when we reached Amarillo.
downtown Amarillo at night
This was where I spent a lot of teenage Saturday nights, at least when me and my friends had gas money. It’s grown quite a bit since I’ve been away.
After leaving Amarillo, the rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. J-Boy slept while I drove the truck under the expansive starry skies of the Panhandle. We got to Mom and Dad’s after 11 p.m. It’s hard to describe what I felt upon arriving back in my old hometown. It’s a jumble of emotions — relief, happiness, sadness, anger — it’s hard to describe in words just yet. In any case, I’m thankful that after losing my house, I still have a home.
Posted by Don
