Cowboy Blues

Day One - Continued

The 300 mile drive across the high plains from Amarillo to Dallas took me through small, run-down Texas towns. Endless flat vistas punctuated only by the occasional grain silo made the drive seem much longer. Signs of civilization were absent for much of the ride. In Childress I found a Wal-Mart and stopped for some picnic necessities. It was the only big box store I found for several hundred miles. This in itself makes U.S. 287 a national treasure.



The sun went down before I got to Dallas, home to the World's Worst Drivers.


After 715 miles and a grueling passage through Dallas, I found a room in Terrell, east of the city, at a less-than-desirable Day's Inn. The pickings were slim: this was the third place I'd stopped at and I was prepared to sleep in the car if necessary. Room 162 possessed an unpleasant, palpable aura of humanity sheltered within its walls over the years, and I was happy to have brought slippers so my feet would not have to touch the grimy carpet. I slept only 3 hours, skipped the unremarkable "breakfast" served in a corner of the dingy lobby, and escaped early in the morning bound for Mobile and, with luck, better accommodations.