What a thrill to see that Casiokids are Amazon’s “Free Download of the Day.”
Who are Casiokids you ask? Only one of the best bands we saw last year at South By Southwest in Austin! What a thrill to know that we saw this quirky, 80′s-style Norwegian techno group when they were unknowns here in the U.S., playing in a parking lot where they had to throw free beer into the audience to get people to show up.
Ok, gotta admit, the free beer is why we stayed to check ‘em out. But it worked! They left an impression on us, and we’re so glad to see they’re about to make it big here in the states.
Download their free MP3 and you’ll see why we loved them. Buy their vinyl album (or MP3s or CDs). Tell a friend. And remember, we saw them when they were nobody!
As a vegetarian since 1989, I’ve never liked rodeos.
The whole idea of tying up an animal or wrestling him to the ground for sport always just seemed appalling to me.
I had never actually seen a rodeo in person before, but all these years took PETA on its word that “rodeos are nothing more than manipulative displays of human domination over animals, thinly disguised as entertainment.”
Skill or Stupidity? You Decide.
When we were in Sweetwater, we happened to camp out at the fairgrounds the same weekend the West Texas Rodeo Association was in town. For just the price of our campsite, we had the option of checking out two days worth of events, free. Jim assumed I would want to leave, or at least organize a protest. But something compelled me to check it out. Being a cheapskate I figured I had nothing to lose if I found it as horrible as I always heard it would be. At least I would know PETA wasn’t exaggerating. After all these years, this veggie-burger eatin’, sprout growin’ hippie was going to judge rodeos for herself, I thought.
We watched all sorts of amateur rodeo competitions, like chute dogging, where a contestant (always male, wonder why?) jumps into the steer’s chute and when the gates are opened, hangs on by the horns while the steer runs down the field and then the guy attempts to wrestle the animal to the ground within 30 seconds.
There was also goat tying, where brawny farm girls wearing feed caps ride into the stadium on a horse, dismount, then try to throw down and tie up a tethered goat as fast as possible.
Now, call me crazy, but I think it’s pretty unfair to prod a steer to run down a field, then twist his head nearly 360 degrees around until it falls down and call it sport. Or run after a terrified baby goat that’s screaming to get away, because he knows exactly what’s coming.
On the other hand, I also learned that other competitions like barrel racing or team roping were far more reflective of true skill. Team roping is when two contestants ride alongside a steer and one tries to throw a lasso around a horn while the other goes after the steer’s rear leg with a lasso. You try throwing a lasso at a moving target and see how easy it is. I know I can’t.
Respect All Life, Silly Cowpokes!
Clearly, in the bygone days of the Old West, many of these exercises were of a way of life for cowpokes on the ranch. These competitions weren’t just games, they were a necessary part of making a living. Seeing amateur rodeo gave me a tiny glimpse into that world, and for that reason I was glad I went.
Still, so much of what I saw billed as “competition” was just mean, violent and unfair to the animals. I can only hope that in a world where many of us recognize the value in making cats and dogs part of our families, more people will adopt these same compassionate attitudes toward all creatures great and small, not just the ones we consider “pets.”
Judging by the few spectators at the Sweetwater rodeo, this might actually be happening. One can always hope, anyways.
The Law of Attraction is simple: like attracts like. I’ve found the theory to hold true when it comes to the kinds of people we meet in life.
In the early 90s, Jim and I were riding our motorcycles in the Bay Area when we met Nancy, an 80 year-old woman who was riding a Gold Wing.
I was dumbfounded that a woman her age was on a bike, but then she told me she used to be a World War II Ferry Pilot, which made motorcycling look like child’s play. As one of the few women bikers at the time, I felt an instant kinship with her.
To this day, her courageous spirit still influences my life, even on our trip across Texas.
Flying Across Texas Into WASP History
In World War II, while the men-folk were off fighting the war, a small group of gutsy women were recruited by the US Air Force to fly military planes from factories to air bases. They also towed targets on the back of these planes while male fighter pilots practiced firing at them with live ammunition!
About 2,000 WASPS trained at the Sweetwater, Texas airport and just over 1,000 women graduated as the first non-combat US military pilots, known as “WASPS” (Women Airforce Service Pilots). As non-combat pilots, these women freed up male pilots from “drudge work” so they could fight on the frontlines.
Nancy was one of these courageous gals. Even after the program was disbanded at the end of the war, she continued flying until one day when she decided to fly a small plane underneath the Golden Gate Bridge! That’s when she was banned forever from flying. So instead she hopped on a bike and continued riding for decades.
The WASP museum is housed in the original 1920s-era aircraft hanger where the WASPs trained.
Inside, a collection of memorabilia, video and props tells the story of these heroic women who came from all walks of life to train as pilots, for a meagre $150 a month salary.
The program was controversial and had its detractors but these women endured to become the first military pilots in the country.
But because the Air Force hired them as Civil Service employees, the WASPs never received military status or benefits because the war ended before a congressional act could be enacted to give them military recognition.
The WASPs were nearly forgotten in history until the 1970s, when the Navy announced that women would be allowed to fly combat planes. As more military women aspired to and became fighter pilots, the story of their WWII predecessors was resurrected.
WASP Pilot Betty Wahl Strohfus, pictured getting her medal, is one of just 300 surviving WASPs.
I don’t know what happened to Nancy, but my memory of our run-in has always stayed dear to my heart. I can’t help but think that much of my good fortune in life comes from that chance encounter I had with such a courageous soul who wasn’t afraid of taking chances. She influenced me more than she’ll ever know.
Seeing the actual spot in Sweetwater where she and so many brave women earned their pilots wings will always serve to inspire myself (and many, many other women) toward more adventure in our lifetimes.
I gathered from the Buc-ee’s (pronounced “Bucky’s”) website that along with fuel, they sold touristy knick knacks and some Texas souvenirs. So I added this curiosity to our agenda. When we left the NuRVers Rally in Gonzales last week, we drove some 16 miles out of our way to see their flagship store in Luling.
“Bu-cees: Everything You Ever Needed, You Just Didn’t Know It”
Buc-ees is a new phenomena that’s exploding because of their crazy Texas highway billboard campaign and sparkling restrooms that rival any in the finest casinos in Vegas (and even my own RV’s bathroom!).
As we walked through the shiny doors in Luling, I swore I heard angels singing. One look inside, and it was obvious: Buc-ees is more than a gas station.
It’s the closest thing to a religious experience I’ve ever had!
That cute little Beaver sells aisles of tasty road food, over 18 different kinds of the best fudge we’ve ever eaten, rows of homemade Texas eats like chow-chow and pickled okra, local music CDs, lawn furniture, toys, sporting goods and endless choices of Buc-ee’s propaganda.
Nothing is cheap looking or second-rate, it’s all first class and big, loud and proud, just like Texas!
And don’t think for a minute that the hook was in the gas prices, because they were cheaper than the competition.
After traveling over 35,000 in the last three years, I was practically on my knees, stricken with surprise and happiness at seeing a gas station that was so happy to see me!
My only gripe; they’re not big-rig friendly on purpose, so if you’ve got anything longer than a 40′ RV, you’ll need to park on the street. But trust me, it’s worth the effort.
Some people are afraid of Buc-ee’s cult-like following. And now that I think about it, they might be right. Maybe that sneaky little Beaver is dosing the fudge with something illicit. Because somehow before we walked out, I willingly surrendered nearly $40 on fudge, chow-chow, “Beaver Nuggets” (think: deep fried Corn Puffs) and a Beaver hat for Jim. Me, the biggest penny pincher there is, was happy to give it all up for Buc-ee’s.
There is simply not enough time to enjoy all the barbecue goodness Texas has to offer. From the big cities and fast highways to every sleepy little town and winding FM (Farm to Market) road, the savory smell of smoking meat can be enjoyed as it radiates from rickety shacks and strip malls alike. It even overpowers the ever present aroma of Texas oil country.
Last year in Luckenbach, René promised me a dinner at Hondo’s in Fredericksburg. This year, she kept her promise. Hondo’s is an informal, self-serve restaurant with a menu sure to please any discriminating taste, and yes, they have BBQ. Place your order and have a seat on the shaded patio sipping a cool tea until your pager blinks. We might have sat inside and stuck around for the live Music if we weren’t taking a break from the Hat Festival.
After seriously considering the brisket, I opted for the special – “a generous portion of whatever David’s been smokin’ all day” – and was informed that the 2 lbs of ribs came just like that, just ribs. So I added some fried onion strings, and was reassured by a sincere “Mmmmmm…” from the woman taking our order.
I traded a bunch of crispy strings for for some of René’s succulent grilled Mahi Mahi salad. There was no way I could eat so many ribs without some fresh greens. And fresh they were.
I would have certainly hurt myself even trying to finish the big ol’ basket of ribs, so leftovers were in order. With some grits and greens topped with remaining onion strings, I got tasty BBQ two days in a row – bonus!
After passing far too many BBQ joints – with names like Fat Boy’s and Bubba’s BBQ – over the next couple weeks, we found another gastronomical treasure at Pop’s Pit in Brookshire, Texas. Pop’s is old school BBQ at it’s best, but these days you’ll even find traditional places like Pop’s Pit on Facebook!
Pop’s Pit is home of the Heart Attack sandwich, chopped beef and sausage. But after ordering the ribs, I spotted the brisket sitting on the counter. It comes sliced or chopped, on a bun or in a bowl, and it looked – and smelled – too good to pass up. I opted for the sliced beef sandwich, and got a funny look when clarifying our side order of beans and slaw. After all, René had just ordered the Suicide Spud wit the same sides, to split. “She’s gonna eat all that?” the woman asked. “No” I said with a grin, we were splitting the side dishes. “I’s gonna say…” was her only reply as she turned to shout our order to whom I presume had to be Pop.
The woman’s reaction was clearly understandable once our food was ready in the walk up window. Another bonus for me: the sausage and chopped beef that comes with the monster baked potato smothered in melted butter and sour cream. The beef was tender and tasty, but leftovers were once again in order. The smoked sausage scrambled up with eggs the next day made for another one of those memorable all day breakfasts.
The final bonus at Pop’s was that we got dinner and a show! Shortly after sitting down at the shaded picnic table with our mess ‘o food, police cars started zipping by with sirens blaring. Then they went the other way, and back again. A parade was about to begin. As I sat licking my fingers, feeling satisfied, and finishing René’s iced tea, she ran off with the camera to capture the colorful Cinco De Mayo celebration passing by.
As paramedics brought up the rear, I felt safe knowing help was nearby if I decided to eat just one more piece of sausage. Allen’s, here we come!
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