Road Trip Day 7

After spending three wonderful days with my family, it was time to bid a tearful farewell and get back in the car.

Zooming down Interstate 10 in the middle of nowhere, I passed a sign advertising a 'van Gogh gallery' which was supposedly at the next exit. A van Gogh gallery in the high plains of Texas? A collection of works by one of the greatest and most influential artists to ever live is located out here, among the tumbleweeds and sagebrush? This I had to see. So I took the next exit and entered the town of Van Horn.

There was no gallery. At least not anymore, according to the man who was setting up Christmas lights on the town's gazebo. After I held his ladder steady so he could safely decorate the gazebo's roof, the man, whose name and life story I've long since forgotten, told me I should visit a mountain fifty miles out of the way. For some unknown reason, I felt obligated to do this.

As I got out to this special mountain, far from civilization, my tire pressure light came on. A careful inspection of the tires revealed nothing out of the ordinary. But at the strong urging of my subconscious (and the owner's manual), I decided to find the nearest gas station.

So I weighed my options. I was fifty miles from the gazebo in Van Horn, and I was 89 miles from El Paso (the direction I needed to go). I could 'play it safe' and head back to Van Horn. Or I could roll the dice and hope to soon find a gas station on the way to El Paso. I decided to roll the dice.

Fifteen miles down the road there was a gas station, but no air hose to be found. So I visited the man inside. He was about seventy and had tubes running from inside his nose to a large oxygen tank. I felt sorry for the man. But at the same time, I wondered how much he could spare.

After I explained my situation, he said, 'You better head to Dell City, and hurry! They got two gas stations. But everything closes at sundown, so you gotta go now!'

I arrived at Dell City, and everything was closed. Except for the town bar. I went inside and the bartender asked if I was from England (???). He then explained where I could find the town's air hose. His directions, which involved heading down two dirt roads and turning at the 'Two Ts' sign, led me right where I need to go. And for the night, disaster was averted.

That special mountain.


The bar.

The sign.
Dirt road.
The hose.

All is well.