CHAPTER 12--LEGENDARY TEXAS HOSPITALITY

November 1996

O

ver the years, I did, from time to time, entertain the thought of discovering you again, Queen, in someone new, someone with your soul. And yeah, there were women from time to time whom I dated, or just slept with, or wanted to sleep with, but didn't. But they got fewer and farther in between as I got older.

One night in particular, a night like many others when Louie and I were lone travelers, I met a woman who gave my heart a terrific ride, while it lasted. We had been on the State Highway 71 in Texas, headed east towards Fredericksburg, and then Austin, so I could do the deer hunting I never got to do. We had called Rooster to let him know we were headed towards New Mexico, and he said we didn't have to hurry, that his package wasn't quite ready.

It was a full moon, that night, and the road was a straight shot through the hills of central Texas. Just when I thought we'd make it to Austin before midnight, some critter scurried across the road, the moonlight reflecting off its back.

It was a fucking armadillo.

And it was, like, right in the line of fire. I swerved but was too late.

Roadkill. Not long after that, the red light came on. Low on oil. Shit. The thing must have torn a hole in the oil pan. Up ahead I saw the blue and red lights of a Chevron service station. Pulled in and parked. Louie had been sleeping in back but woke when he heard me throw the parking brake.

"Amigo, he said drowsily.”What's happening?"

"I think an Armadillo tore a hole in our oil pan. I'm going to check out it right now."

Dug under my seat for the flashlight. Found it.

"Does this place a rest room?"

"I'm sure it does," I said as I pushed open my door to get out. Fuck it was cold. Reached behind my seat and grabbed my jacket.

Moments later, while lying on my back looking up a gaping hole in our oil pan, as oil I just swapped out two days earlier flowed like blood from a bullet wound; I saw Louie's Nikes and blue jeans approaching me.

"So much for legendary Texan hospitality," he said. "They don't let anyone use the rest room after dark."

"Louie, you're a dude. Just go do it behind a tree like every other guy."

"I think she didn't like me because I'm Mexican."

Got out from under the car and faced Louie. I couldn't believe it. He was wearing the shirt I told him to bury in deepest part of the car he could find while we were in the Lone Star state.

"Louie, why are you wearing that shirt?"

"What shirt? What do you mean?"

"I mean the shirt I told you to hide as long as we were in Texas."

"Oh, that shirt. Oh my God, I don't fucking believe it," he said, looking down and realizing he was wearing the novelty shirt some girl loaned to me some anonymous night in who knows where, that I never returned, and that she probably never missed, because it was on thin cotton and was a one-screen print that read: "I was born in Texas but I got out as fast I could."

I thought it was funny. But not funny enough to get killed over. The phone was inside the store, and as I walked in and eyed Louie's suspected racist, I found her. It was you, Queen. Not in a physical way, but in a spiritual way. Still, she was beautiful. Looked about 35 and had gorgeous, shoulder-length red hair. And these expressive brown eyes. And it was the eyes, the way they looked at me that called to mind my memory of you. It was strong and immediate. Let this little attraction distract me from business at hand. For a conversation starter, I figured I'd test Louie's theory.

"Can I use the rest room?" I asked.

"No, I'm sorry, but we have policy of closing them at night. We've had problems."

Louie's theory was bunk.

"Hey," she said. "Are you with that guy that was just in here? The guy with one arm?"

"Uh, yeah."

I couldn't see any reason to lie.

"Ask him where he got the shirt he was wearing. I want to get one. I think it's hilarious."

She then eyed around the store nervously, making sure no one else was in the store. We were alone, except for Louie, who appeared wearing a plain black T-shirt this time.

"So, did you call the tow truck?"

"No, not yet ... I got sidetracked."

"Hey what happened to your shirt?" the lady asked.

"I, uh changed it," he replied sheepishly.

"Well, I really don't blame you. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing it around here. But I thought it was funny."

"Tell you what," I inserted. "It just so happens to be my shirt, and I'm not that all attached to it, that is, if you don't mind that it's a little soiled."

"Not at all."

Dispatched Louie to retrieve the shirt and went and called a tow truck. The nearest was in Fredericksburg, and said he would be about forty minutes. Looked at my watch and saw it was almost ten p.m. Hopefully, I thought, we could find a place to crash before one. Walked back up the counter, where Louie was just handing her the shirt. I grabbed a Slim Jim beef stick and put it on the counter.

"I see you have your shirt."

"Yeah, thanks."

"How long did they say?" Louie asked.

"An hour probably. He said forty minutes, but I bet it's closer to an hour."

"I'm going to go lie down in the van, then."

"Turned back to the cute counter girl and asked for a pack of Camels."

"So, I take it you're not from Texas?"

"Actually, I am. Was born in Lake Jackson. But I don't really like it here all that much. I want to move back to California. Northern California."

"Back?"

"Yeah, I went to school in San Francisco. Berkeley, actually. Ended up staying on in Santa Rosa for some time."

"What brought you back to Texas to work nights in a Chevron gas station?"

"My husband," she said.

My heart sank. Didn't really hear what she said after the husband part. It's like; here I meet someone I could see myself really getting to know. I even gave her a fucking T-shirt. Someone who recalls to my mind you, Queen, someone in a Podunk small hick town like Harper, Texas, and she's married. "Well, guys, we're closed five minutes ago. I hate to do this to you, but I have to get on home."

Just then a guy in army fatigues entered.

"I'm sorry, we're ... oh it's you Bill. OK, just hurry up.”

"Thanks, Julie," he said, and headed down an aisle.

As I walked back to the van, I noticed a door on the side of the building that looked like a meat locker. Of course, for deer. When I got back to the van, Louie was sitting the passenger seat, staring out into space.

"What's up?" I said. "I thought you were going to lie down."

"I was. This place gives me the creeps, Jack. Did you ever see Deliverance?"

"Oh, relax, Louie."

"I know I know ... it's just that, as I walked back, there were a bunch of guys who came hauling this dead deer out of their car, and they opened that door and took it in there. And I glanced inside, and there were all these deer just hanging on hooks with their guts split wide open. And all these guys milling about in army wear, with their big guns and big trucks. One of them asked me what happened to our van. I said we hit an armadillo. He said, “Too bad you didn't hit a deer. You could take it home and eat it."

Must admit, guys with guns in army fatigues tend to make me nervous but then this was Hill Country in Texas and it was hunting season, and hell, myself, I liked the taste of venison.

"Jack," Louie said. "I want to become a vegetarian."

And, actually, from that day on from as far as I could tell, he did in fact remain a vegetarian. Settled in after that, trying to keep as warm as possible with the blankets and sleeping bags we had in the van, as we waited for the tow truck from Fredericksburg.

Watched her as she locked up and came down the stairs towards her car. She even had your walk, Queen. And sometime between then and when the tow truck driver showed up three hours late, and we were cold and so burnt on legendary Texas hospitality, I managed to get over her.