My lone star

On our third day of Texas we are still more than two hundred miles from its western border. Arriving in Fort Stockton last night we realized that 1) despite this being the first sizable city on Interstate 10 after San Antonio, it was way too late to get anything sensible to eat, and 2) the humid climates of the South are history, and we’d finally entered the Southwest.

The warm and breezy night would have been perfectly spent around the swimming pool of our motel, if it hadn’t been closed for hours. And also considering that today another long day of driving awaits us, so that we can be in Tucson at a decent hour.

Friday’s highlight was that our car was requiring some sort of maintenance, so I called Houston (that is the Hertz office at Bush Intercontinental Airport) and they told us it would need to be replaced. This implied a detour and a bit of time spent making sure all our luggage and passengers (a stuffed tiger and an inflatable – yet currently deflated – alligator, neither belonging to me) would be translated to the new vehicle.

After a whole day on the road all the way from New Orleans, we had arrived in Austin around 3 a.m., definitely not too pretty a sight.