The trip started like any other. Myself and two other full grown men piled in a single cab pickup and embarked on a 10 hour drive. About an hour down the road we stopped at Braum's for burgers. A wise decision. 30 minutes later we were back on the road. About 2 hours after that we stopped for fuel.
FUCKING 3.39 a gallon. Fucking OPEC. They're building fucking islands shaped like the world and I'm paying 70 bucks for a tank of gas.
Since we were already off the road we elected for another stop over at DQ (aka, Texas Stop Sign). These two locations were very important. You see, one of our good friends has moved to some place in the North (one of those states about the size of one of our cities here in Texas). They don't have good food up there, just expensive food with names I can't pronounce. So in order to make sure our friend was still a Texan with good Texas values we had to make sure he remembered vividly why he hated living up north--DQ serves ice cream only. No fucking steak finger or chicken finger baskets. No hunger busters. Also no Braum's. Also no Whataburger. Also, no decent Mexican food. One of the many challenges we presented him with was the consumption of a chicken finger basket followed by a large Snickers blizzard. He passed, but it made him nearly unbearably gassy.
Back on the road. I managed to endure nearly 3 hours riding bitch. For those of you that don't know what "riding bitch" is, its when you have to ride in the middle seat of the truck. You're not the driver, and you're not riding shotgun. You're riding bitch. Its called riding bitch for 2 reasons. 1) If you're bitch was riding with you she'd be snuggled up next to you in the middle. 2) If you're a guy riding in that spot, your just a bitch for not kicking the dude riding shotgun's ass and taking his seat. So after 3 hours I demanded a switch out. Seeing as Brandon, the guy I had allowed to ride shotgun thus far, was a solid 30 pounds lighter than me he didn't have much choice but to yield the seat. In fact, one of the saddest moments of the trip was when this guy pulled his shirt off. He looked like he'd been undergoing chemo. The food up north must be terrible.
Now, the funny part about this was Brandon said he couldn't ride bitch because of his "knees and back." What the fuck. You're 28 man. And you're getting ready to spend 4 nights in the wilderness. Not just any wilderness. The wilderness of the Texas-Mexico border in Brewster County (think, "No Country for Old Men"). In addition to that, just a few months ago we were hiking in Arkansas and pulled 4 20+ mile days back to back (NOTE: I only pulled 2 because I had to return home and work). So, you're knees and back can kiss my ass. Next thing I know you'll be demanding socialized medicine.
Finally, darkness fell. As we turned off the interstate near Monahans Brandon (The Neo-Yankee) was at the wheel. We began to all point at the large rabbits with their ginormous ears hopping across and along the road. Then we began to see deer alongside the road.
Then suddenly, Justin, the other member of our party and the owner of the truck we were driving pointed out a deer entering the road. Brandon proceeded on as if there were no deer. Justin once again pointed out the presence of the deer, this time with more zeal. Brandon sluggishly began maneuvering. He just missed the deer by about the margin of a gnats pubic hair (which isn't very much).
Shortly there after we arrived in Alpine, got fuel and food and took a whizz. Alpine has a school, Sul Ross University. It was amazing to us that the emo look and Holister clothing had infected even this remote town.
Once back on the road I was at the wheel. This was a bit sketchy because I didn't bring my glasses and don't see so well, especially at night, without them. Brandon and Justin complained I was a bit heavy on the break. About 15 miles down the road I showed them what "heavy on the break" was all about as I engaged the anti-lock breaks and executed an aggressive maneuver to avoid a large buck that apparently couldn't take living in West Texas any longer. Damn thing countered my evasive maneuvers by repositioning himself in my path. Luckily, the combination of ABS noise and horn shook him from his suicidal haze and he was able to cut the other direction before I struck him.
At this point I decided it might be better if Justin drove.
About 2 in the A.M. we rolled into Terlingua. A dusty little town run by a goat. We pulled in the parking lot of Desert Sports, the company that would be shuttling our car, and looked for a place to sleep. We bedded down in the back of some of their vehicles. It was difficult to sleep because the full moon illuminated the desert like day light. I've never seen anything like it.
And that completed our first day of the trip.
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