In a one game, winner take all tournament, Judy (The wily cager) trounced me to win the Sherman, Texas open. After a leisurely morning of piddlin' and diddlin', we left town about ten. Judy navigated us through the back country just east of Dallas. We missed the interstate, the hustle and bustle of traffic, and we cruised through small Texas towns in cattle country. it was really fun, though I must say, a seventy-five mile an hour speed limit on a heaving out country road is a bit extravagant even for Texas. No matter. Traffic was light, and when some guy or gal in a white stetson wanted by, they just passed us like we were a silver reflection in the road. All went well until we spotted Wright's BBQ in a little by water called Mexia. The parking lot was full, even though it was 12:45 P.M., and the aroma lured us in like the smoke from an Arabian hookah. I pulled over (A little too quickly, it turns out) off the shoulder to what I thought was a safe and level patch of short grass. Not so, as Frac let out a wail (I'm just guessing here; we didn't hear or feel a thing). At any rate, when we got out, poor Frac had been impaled by a rusty old fence post that I think was lying in the grass like the proverbial snake. My conjecture is that on the little S turn I made to get off the highway, Fric's back wheel lifted the metal fence post just enough so it impaled itself into Frac's under carriage. (i don't really know, officer). The good news is that the dagger missed the propane lines, and though it will most likely be an expensive blemish to fix, that's all it is: a blemish. Far worse could have happened, and '... Therefore art thou happy, Romeo'. Lunch was great! We shared a pulled pork dinner plate with potato salad, baked beans, and the sauce was a light and tart vinegar. The meat itself was so tender, I thought it was my Hunny Bunny's feelings when I used to call her a cheater-butt. Wright's has been in business in the same spot for fifty years. A gorgeous, over six foot young African American woman with polka dot freckles served us. "May I help ya'all? I'll bring it out, right quick." To the regulars, her favorite term of endearment was, "What can I git ya', babe?" After lunch and two safety checks a few miles apart, we decided Frac was merely stung, but that no internal damage had been done, so on we went to Giddings, Texas-definitely home of the brave. Seventy miles or so north of Giddings is the town of Calvert, Texas. The whole place is on the historical register. We stopped and walked around just to stretch our legs. If they had had a place to park Frac, we probably would have stayed there, but they didn't so we just bought a few gourmet chocolates to give us some solace. The chocolate maker, a British guy who is also a French trained chef boasted that his establishment was voted the best French restaurant in Texas. We would have like to check that out, but he only serves dinner Friday and Saturday, and by then it will be snowing in Calvert. No thanks. We've distanced ourselves from the winter blast. In fact, we plan to use the last of the warm and sunny weather (It was seventy-seven and muggy today) to ride a little bit tomorrow morning before pushing on to the Corpus Christi area. Why ride you ask? Well, there is another Texas BBQ joint that has a good reputation six miles back in Giddings. It will be reminiscent of a camping trip a while back at Red Fish Lake in Southern Idaho. There we mustered enough gumption to ride six miles to a bakery and back nearly every day for ten days straight. You know what we think of that: Life is good, especially today.
Just goes to show that the ambience of a place matters little when the goodness drips off of your fingers.
Thick white bread. Are you serious!
The dining area in Wright's, the cracked concrete floor is the glimmering gray patch under the window.
Ouch!
Life size plastic sculpture in down town Calvert.
My "cheatin' heart" was longing for a frosty mug.
They're willing to pay good teachers more in Texas.
Mini bikers in the chocolate/French restaurant.
Don't mess with Texas, or you may end up before the judge.
The other side of the street looks just as cool.
Fric and Frac nestled in spot 14 on the South Forty
Pretty good spot. If the weather were better, we'd hang around here to ride the back roads.
Hey, have you seen George W?
You youngin's know nothin': His spread is over East of Waco.
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