Messin' with Texas
Re: What is Taylor Sirard doing?
With eleven days to drive through Louisiana and Texas, tour New Mexico, Arizona, and Southern California, and make it to San Francisco, I begrudgingly tore myself from New Orleans. I came down off the high of Big Easy life and plummeted to the boundless plains of Texas. Mile after manila-hued mile passed without the slightest discrepancy in my awareness.
I was yearning for any change of scenery that could be interpreted as excitement in contrast to the surrounding bareness. I searched for any curvature on the distant horizon, for small clusters of civilization or trees, or a cloud massive enough to release rain. Yet, all I found was more field and more flat road.
Evening fell as I made my way through the panhandle, my last stretch of Texas. Driving had become more difficult. For some reason, I couldn't keep Bernadette's wheels straight between the highway lane. I figured it was a combination of the effort it takes to drive a 1986 RV without power steering and my weariness. Then, I started to notice other vehicles swerve with regularity. Before long I was slowed to thirty miles per hour, while the wind threw Bernie into unintentional lane changes.
The undriveable wind was not exactly the excitement I was looking for. Thanks anyways, Texas. I pulled off the freeway at the first rest stop I saw. Even after parking, Bernie continued to sway with the volatile air.
Fortunately, the closed travel plaza was neighbors with a 24-hour truck stop. An attached diner was still open, so I decided to make use of the wifi. I picked a table with a clear view of Bernadette through the window. I think some part of me was afraid she would blow away.
I searched the weather advisories and was unsurprised to discover winds were averaging fifty miles per hour, although the eighty mile per hour gusts seemed exceptional to my Michigander perspective. My inquiry into local weather led me to more unsettling news: The city of Amarillo, which I was just outside of, was surrounded by several wildfires.
I began scouring various news sources for more information. It was unclear the exact location and quantity of fires. Some fires were contained before they reached 30 acres while others were 1000 acres and completely uncontained.
The people in the diner around me seemed calm as they discussed daily monotonies and lazily worked through their over-portioned dinner plates.
I looked out at my 18 foot home, which contained nearly all of my belongings.
Wind speeds remained fast and the National Weather Service advised against driving with a high-profile vehicle. Although some fires were contained, some other areas were evacuated. I knew the winds and fires were moving east (towards me), but I had no way to see if I was at risk of encountering one. Regardless, it was apparent I would be staying at the rest stop for the night.
I drove across the overpass to the rest stop whose parking lot was homing several other campers and semi-trucks. In an attempt to shield myself from the wind, I parked between two campers that towered over Bernie. Still, her body rattled and the wind whistled through poorly sealed doors.
Sleep seemed unattainable with the commotion and my lingering anxieties. Around 11:30 pm I made a voice recording on my phone in some sort of effort to calm down:
I started to accept that whether or not I was in danger, or able to get out of it, was out of my control. At about 12:30 am I sent a text message to my sister:
I awoke at six in the morning, and again at eight to check the latest news. Spoiler alert: I never caught on fire.
By eight, the wind had died down and the travel information center was open. I browsed around to stretched my legs before starting another day of driving. The still air outside and the quiet lobby were an exceptional contrast to the uneasy night I had. On my way out of the building, I saw a collection of Texas-themed stickers. One stuck out amongst the others.
Note taken, Texas. In future travels, I will humbly accept your flat empty landscapes (or avoid driving through the state altogether.)
With eleven days to drive through Louisiana and Texas, tour New Mexico, Arizona, and Southern California, and make it to San Francisco, I begrudgingly tore myself from New Orleans. I came down off the high of Big Easy life and plummeted to the boundless plains of Texas. Mile after manila-hued mile passed without the slightest discrepancy in my awareness.
I was yearning for any change of scenery that could be interpreted as excitement in contrast to the surrounding bareness. I searched for any curvature on the distant horizon, for small clusters of civilization or trees, or a cloud massive enough to release rain. Yet, all I found was more field and more flat road.
Evening fell as I made my way through the panhandle, my last stretch of Texas. Driving had become more difficult. For some reason, I couldn't keep Bernadette's wheels straight between the highway lane. I figured it was a combination of the effort it takes to drive a 1986 RV without power steering and my weariness. Then, I started to notice other vehicles swerve with regularity. Before long I was slowed to thirty miles per hour, while the wind threw Bernie into unintentional lane changes.
The undriveable wind was not exactly the excitement I was looking for. Thanks anyways, Texas. I pulled off the freeway at the first rest stop I saw. Even after parking, Bernie continued to sway with the volatile air.
Fortunately, the closed travel plaza was neighbors with a 24-hour truck stop. An attached diner was still open, so I decided to make use of the wifi. I picked a table with a clear view of Bernadette through the window. I think some part of me was afraid she would blow away.
I searched the weather advisories and was unsurprised to discover winds were averaging fifty miles per hour, although the eighty mile per hour gusts seemed exceptional to my Michigander perspective. My inquiry into local weather led me to more unsettling news: The city of Amarillo, which I was just outside of, was surrounded by several wildfires.
I began scouring various news sources for more information. It was unclear the exact location and quantity of fires. Some fires were contained before they reached 30 acres while others were 1000 acres and completely uncontained.
Large Grass Fire - Avoid Area https://t.co/zy3qYUAs6t— Amarillo Area OEM (@AmarilloOEM) March 19, 2018
I wondered if fires were to Texas as blizzards were to Michigan. I thought it might be normal, no cause for concern. News sources could have dramatized the severity and underplayed the regularity of these events (major media outlets? NEVER!)At this time the fire near City of Amarillo is is 85% contained. Crews are on scene to monitor throughout the night. No structures were impacted.— CityofAmarillo (@CityofAmarillo) March 19, 2018
The people in the diner around me seemed calm as they discussed daily monotonies and lazily worked through their over-portioned dinner plates.
I looked out at my 18 foot home, which contained nearly all of my belongings.
UPDATE: The TTUHSC #AmarilloTX campus will be delayed until noon on Monday, March 19. Grass fires have been reported contained, and the situation will be monitored throughout the evening. Updates at https://t.co/8t2vim4lNz.— TTUHSC Amarillo (@TTUHSCamarillo) March 19, 2018
Wind speeds remained fast and the National Weather Service advised against driving with a high-profile vehicle. Although some fires were contained, some other areas were evacuated. I knew the winds and fires were moving east (towards me), but I had no way to see if I was at risk of encountering one. Regardless, it was apparent I would be staying at the rest stop for the night.
I drove across the overpass to the rest stop whose parking lot was homing several other campers and semi-trucks. In an attempt to shield myself from the wind, I parked between two campers that towered over Bernie. Still, her body rattled and the wind whistled through poorly sealed doors.
Sleep seemed unattainable with the commotion and my lingering anxieties. Around 11:30 pm I made a voice recording on my phone in some sort of effort to calm down:
...There are a lot of fires around me right now and the news isn't really clear on how many there are or where, exactly, they're expanded to. Some have been contained, but it seems every time I look further into it I find out about another one that is somewhere in the surrounding area. Wildfires being the beasts that they are, especially with the wind as it is right now (if you can hear,) I'm a little scared. I'm a little worried. I feel like it's not going to be easy to sleep tonight...So far, no evacuations for the actual area that I'm in right now. The only problem with that is that the wind is so high that evacuating might be pretty unsafe for me because of the profile of my RV and its instability [chuckling] due to its age. So we'll see...Sleep wasn't easy, especially when fire updates were more grim than comforting.
The fire at 9th and Soncy has flared back up west of Soncy. Fire units are back on-scene fighting the fire. #txfire #phwx #txwx— Amarillo Area OEM (@AmarilloOEM) March 19, 2018
— Amarillo Area OEM (@AmarilloOEM) March 19, 2018
Incident Update: #OldMuddyRoadFire in Potter County, currently an estimated eight structures have been reported lost. We are working with our local partners to get types and locations of structures affected. #txfire— Incident Information - Texas A&M Forest Service (@AllHazardsTFS) March 19, 2018
I started to accept that whether or not I was in danger, or able to get out of it, was out of my control. At about 12:30 am I sent a text message to my sister:
Hey, so I really don't want to worry you, but I trust you'd be the [calmest] with this info. I happen to be near the area of some uncontained fires in Texas. I'm not really concerned [I was concerned], as there are no evacuation notices for the area I'm in. BUT I just want to say I love you...I am at a travel plaza next to several other people if that is reassuring. I'll keep you updated. There is a severe wind advisory going on until tomorrow morning, and I'll be able to leave then.I tried to repeat what became a mantra for me when sleeping alone in my RV was troubling, "You can be scared or you can sleep. Pick one." This time, the mantra didn't work. I stayed awake for the next couple of hours following updates of the fires online.
I awoke at six in the morning, and again at eight to check the latest news. Spoiler alert: I never caught on fire.
By eight, the wind had died down and the travel information center was open. I browsed around to stretched my legs before starting another day of driving. The still air outside and the quiet lobby were an exceptional contrast to the uneasy night I had. On my way out of the building, I saw a collection of Texas-themed stickers. One stuck out amongst the others.
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| [Image: A white decal in the geographic shape of Texas. Black lettering on top reads, "Don't mess with Texas."] |
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This has been a completely accurate version of events that in NO WAY were dramatized to entertain the masses...
...I think.
Thank you for reading! That hilarious sticker is still up for grabs if you would like a token of my fearful night in Texas. You can make it yours over on my Patreon here, along with getting access to the full voice recording I made that night and other exclusive content. A special thank you to my current patrons, ya'll are something special.
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