Race Against Time and Harvey

I lit out early from San Antonio yesterday and drove the whole day Northeastwards across Texas, arriving in Texarkana in the evening.  It was one of the longest driving days of my trip.  The reason for the haste is that I’m running two races.

The first is against Hurricane Harvey, which made landfall last night on the Texas coast last night as a Category 4 Hurricane.  In Laredo and as far North as San Antonio the highway signs were flashing warning messages: “Hurricane Warning for Texas Coast / Travel to Texas Coast Discouraged.”  I was trying to outrun it.  When I left San Antonio it was a warm, bright overcast day and I risked putting the top down.  I then watched the sky go through some uneasy changes, with dark grey rags and streamers moving in under the high blue overcast.  It looked not so much like the periphery of the hurricane as a sky aware of its presence nearby, feeling its effects, perhaps able to indulge in some mischief of its own while the attention of the larger weather gods were elsewhere.  But I kept moving, and stayed North of it; the clouds brightened again, and never rained, and toward evening I even poked out into sunshine as I pulled into Texarkana.

The second race I’m running is against my driver’s license, which is due to expire Aug. 28.

My real driver’s license, you’ll recall, was stolen with my wallet in Mexico City, and WSDOL mailed my replacement license on July 18 by regular mail to Hostal Cuija in Mexico City, where it never arrived.  Since then I’ve been driving with a temporary permit that I convinced them to email me; this permit is what’s due to expire on August 28.  But I have a plan in the works—or actually, by accident, two plans.

I’ve sent in another “Lost License While Out of State” form, and this time I cleverly put an address in the U.S.: that of a friend of mine in Chicago who volunteered for the task.  Even WSDOL’s snail mail should reach him expeditiously.  When he gets it he’ll send it on to me wherever I am.  (Thank you!!  You know who you are!)  Then, just yesterday—AFTER I’d sent in the form—I suddenly received an email from Hostal Cuija: my original replacement license finally arrived!  So I’ve contacted my friend Brett in Mexico City, who’s going to pick it up and express-mail it to me. 

The upshot is I now have two replacement licenses en route to me.  However, neither will likely reach me by August 28.  Hence my haste: I’m trying to get to Memphis by Monday.  I figure if I have to wait a day or three until I can drive again, that’s a fine place to do it. 

In the meantime, I crossed Texas.  And for once I got off the highways and took the back roads.  My plan for the U.S. portion of this road trip is to take a page from “Blue Highways” and follow the smaller lines on the map.  The Miata cruises happily at 55, and taking it onto the superhighways has always been a nuisance: not only is it antisocial, as a slow car, but it’s antithetical.  A Miata is all about enjoying the experience, while Interstate driving is all about eliminating it.  So at San Marcos I got off on Route 21, through towns like Bastrop and Dime Box, and spent the day rolling through the wide green Texas farmlands.  It was no slower—in fact the speed limit on these country roads was 75, and cars were still bunching up behind me until either a passing lane appeared or I pulled over for them—but it was prettier.

And in the town of Bryan, on the corner of Wm. Jennings Bryan street, I found my smalltown restaurant with pie.  It was called Must Be Heaven, and the pie was delicious.