This is not happening. Is the engine gonna explode? Is my car literally about to blow up? Where's the fire? I just know there's gonna be fire.
Looking at the hood, I don't see signs of any flames. I'm in the middle of the country and my car might be preparing to split atoms. Is that something cars do? Is my car becoming a nuclear warhead?
I check my GPS: 6 minutes to destination. The first thing you're supposed to do is pull over right? I can't pull over now, I'm so close! I check the engine temperature: it looks fine. Or is it a little warmer than usual? I hit the gas. It went up! Not by a lot though, but it still got hotter! Is that something that normally happens when I hit the gas or is it on fire now? I don't know!
I continue driving, watching the temperature the whole time. At one point I get too anxious and slide on ice trying to stop behind a car. Great, now fire and ice are trying to kill me. I calm down, realizing the car's no good slammed into the back of another, and continue watching the temperature until I finally arrive at my destination:
This house is the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time. Kevin's sister is named Kaylea. She's an energetic stay at home mom who's married to Greg, a mild mannered radio engineer, who opens the door for me. Together, they are yin and yang. Kaylea also introduces me to her daughter, Rachel. Rachel plays bassoon at a younger age better than I played saxophone at an older age: it's slightly embarrassing. And together, they live here, in Denton, Texas, in a home...a full size, no wheels, not an automobile in any way, home. It's a great sight to see.
Kaylea plans on locking the door but I mention, "Don't worry about it, I've gotta go back out, my check engine light just came on." Kaylea assures me I can stay as long as I need. Greg lets me know of the best mechanic nearby and also lets me use his OBD-II code reader (it tells you what's wrong with the car). After finding out the code, Greg and I both look it up to agree it's some sort of pedal acceleration sensor. That doesn't sound nearly as bad as an exploding engine so I remain skeptical that's the only issue.
We all watch a little TV and discuss some of the common questions I get when traveling, but it's late, so it's not long before we go to sleep. Waking up early, I take my car to the shop as soon as they open. The car shop is classy. They even drive you back to wherever you need to be for free after dropping off your car. Granted, I'm sure I paid for it in the bill somehow, but it was still a nice service.
While having something go wrong with my car is absolutely a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thing, it couldn't have happened at a better time. I'd already planned on, for the exact same day, getting my oil changed and having my brakes checked (the brake light had been coming on), so it saved me trouble having the car in the shop all at once. But what helped even more is the fact I had a place to stay. Kaylea and Greg were very generous about my staying with them, so after dropping my car off, I was free to go back to their house. Kaylea says she doesn't like awkward silences, so she loves to talk. I'm awful at talking, so it's good practice for me. Kaylea loves cooking shows and lets me know how well her brother Kevin cooks, something I never knew. She assures me though, no matter what he says, she can out-bake him any day of the week. I ask her, "Texas says they're best at cooking a lot of things. Which one are they really best at?" She says probably BBQ, but ask one of her moved out daughters, Lauren, about the best places for a foreigner in the area to try. Lauren says there's a hamburger place in The Square, a social area in Denton, I should try. So Kaylea ask and Lauren confirms that she'd like to meet us there for what was a very enjoyable lunch. I think Lauren mostly wanted to go because she was curious why one of her uncle's friends was staying at her mother's house. The name of the place we went was LSA Burger Co, and it was a good burger. I don't think it was the best I've ever had, but I've had a lot of burgers, and if that's anything like Texas's median, then Texas definitely cooks a good burger.
In the afternoon I get a call from the shop telling me it was indeed a pedal acceleration sensor and luckily nothing else. They also told me they couldn't change the rear brake pads alone, they had to do rotors, too. Generally, both these problems would be something my Dad and I would do together: he'd show me what to do, I'd try it on my own, and he'd get to make fun of the stupid things I do along the way. It's cost effective for me and entertaining for him. But going on the road he swore to me, something would happen to the car, and I'd have to pay for it, and so it was, but it had to be done. The shop also says the timing belt and some water something is about to need replacing, not that it needs it yet, but they could do it for 900+ dollars. No thanks, I'll wait until the car really does explode for that. But I do give them the go ahead to do everything else which they say can be done by closing time today. This is good because it's Friday: if it didn't get done today I'd have to stay until Monday. This isn't a major issue aside from the fact I don't like to feel like I'm inconveniencing people even when they're as welcoming as Kaylea's family: I'd rather get out of their hair and let them live their lives. So I tell Kaylea the car'll be done tonight and she seems slightly disappointed: she'd been talking about all the good things she could cook and I think was ready to show off over the weekend.
"If you stay tonight I can at least make some of my brisket: it's my best dish."
The offer was one I couldn't refuse, so I stay the night again.
The brisket requires being cooked late into the night and then letting set while everyone sleeps. By morning, Kaylea has made me an aluminum foil to-go packet. She tells me it'll be good until around noon in the packet, but I eat it for lunch and dinner, and it manages to be excellent both times.
Leaving my temporary sanctuary, I head back into Dallas to see the 6th Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza, the location where JFK was shot. Amazingly, the museum allows absolutely no photography. Not just flash photography, no photography what so ever. Which isn't too big a loss, because in all honesty there wasn't a lot to photograph. The museum works similar to Elvis's house at Graceland: you're given headphones and a small device which you can enter numbers into to listen to sound recordings telling you about the thing that's located near a sign with the number you entered on it. But the museum has SO many visitors that it's hard to see anything. And what do you get to see if you push hard enough to the front? A giant poster board with text and photos. There are few displays of actual objects involved with JFKs history and his assassination. You get to see where the gun was found, a scale model of the street the FBI made to decide where the shots must have came from, and a hand full of other things, but for the most part, the entire museum could be downloaded into a PowerPoint presentation. I do however take some pictures from outside:
On the rightmost column, 2nd to last row from the top: that's the window JFK was shot from.
JFK's car slowed down to take this corner underneath the window and that's when he was shot.
None too impressed by the museum, I leave quickly after getting the photos and head to Oklahoma City to take a look at the capitol building. 15-30 minutes leaving town I decide to pass someone going a little slower than I'd like. This involves me going 3-5 miles over the speed limit, so when I see a Texas patrolman on the side of the interstate, I decide to slow down until I pass him. Looking in my rear view, I notice he's pulling into the road. Odd...I didn't see any of the cars around me doing anything wrong. Maybe he's just leaving to patrol somewhere else. I'd better go ahead and get over anyway in case he comes this far to pass.
And so, I speed up a little again to pass a car and then slow down into the right lane. It's at this point I'll bring up that I have been driving BRILLIANTLY my entire trip. Those who have driven with me know I like to go fast, I like to roll stops when I can, and if it's 3 in the morning and I can see both ways, I'm not waiting the entire time for a red light. It was my conscious decision when beginning this road trip to obey every law to a T and I've been doing it. So when the Texas lawman catches up and moves directly behind me, I'm a bit confused.
What did I do? I give serious effort into considering what I possibly could have done to get this guy behind me. My initial thought is he must've seen my tag and just wants to hassle an out of towner for an easy ticket. But he'd still need a reason to pull me over, which must be why he hasn't yet. So after 30-40 seconds, he moves from behind me and slowly creeps up on my side. I have my GoPro (camera) hanging near the mirror. Does he think it's a radar jammer and those are illegal in this state? I'm starting to come up on a car and can't pass with him beside me, so I slow down. This must send a red flag up for him, because he gets behind me and the lights go on.
*****
Is he going to get me for going below the speed limit? In all my years of driving carelessly, I've been pulled over once. I decide to drive legally for a week and I get pulled over.
"Driver's license, registration, insurance."
I give him my license and while getting the other documents ask:
"What did you pull me over for?"
"Did you see me back there on the road?"
"Yeah." (not sure why he asked that, maybe he thought I'd lie)
"You were in the left lane and somebody had to pass you on the right."
WHAAAAAT?!!
In all my years of driving...in all my years of yelling at people to and from work to get out of the left lane...in all my years of passing people on the right because I had no other choice...I find the one ****ing cop in Texas that's made it his mission in life to get slow people out of the left lane.
I'm confused. My brain can't properly process what's happening here.
"There were lots of signs back there saying you have to be in the right lane unless passing."
It's true, they do have a lot more of those signs out here, but I had no idea they took it that seriously. I ask him to repeat some things because I can't hear over the wind.
"Do you mind stepping out a second and coming to the back of the car with me so you can hear me better, Kobie?"
"Sure."
I get to the back. He ask me a few basic questions: where do I work (nowhere), where did you work (Department of Energy), how long (3 years), what are you doing in Texas (gave up my 3 year job to travel the country in an attempt to cross out my bucket list in the event of an early impending demise).
"Well, lemme tell ya what I'm doing out here, Kobie..."
Here it comes. Here comes the real reason he pulled me over. Is my tag expired? Is that why we're outside the car?
"It's my job to find people smuggling things into Texas: drugs, guns, prostitutes, contraband..."
WHAAAAAT?!!!
Apparently if you have a South Carolina tag, drive in Texas, and slow down when passing a cop, you look like a contraband smuggler.
"If I were to look in your trunk, would I find anything illegal in there?"
Luckily I'd practiced this part, because there was something in my car that might be illegal. It was my friend Vesper: she's my 9mm Smith and Wesson pistol.
"I don't think so."
"You don't think so?"
Having brought my pistol in case things REALLY got out of hand on the road, I'd been questioning whether I would lie or tell the truth if I was pulled over and asked if I had any weapons in the trunk and decided it would be best if I just told the truth. I might get in trouble, but the intent seems innocent enough if I tell the truth. Lying would probably get me quite a bit more trouble.
"No, but I will tell you I've got a gun in the trunk."
"What kind?"
"9mm for pro..."
"That's fine."
Damn, Texas! I didn't even have to give an excuse for having a gun in this place!
The officer ask if he can see in my trunk. Knowing I'm only asking for trouble if I say no, I say yes. It's at this moment I'll point out my trunk is PACKED! I have to keep some things in my back seat because I couldn't fit it all in the trunk.
"That's clothes, dirty clothes, computer, toiletries, camera and gun, I've got some camping equipment in the back..."
"You've got everything in there!"
"Yeah, ima be gone a while."
Looking past the fact he pulled me over for a completely BS excuse, the officer seems a good guy. He sees I'm not smuggling anything and ask me a couple questions about the trip. I ask him about Rest Areas: he says the best ones are the ones with security guards (he would). He says he has to at least write a warning for every stop, so I can wait in my car. Coming back he tells me, "Just so you know, that pistol is okay here in Texas: you could have it sitting right on your dash and it wouldn't matter. But when you get further west and up north, especially places like California and New York with strict gun laws, it's gonna be illegal and they will consider it a felony." I thank him for telling me. I already knew how strict some of the states would be but didn't figure, as safe as I was driving, I'd have to worry about answering for it, but this Texas lawman has opened up my eyes. If I can get pulled over for contraband smuggling in a state like Texas, I'd hate to know what a more authoritarian state might pull me over for. I decide it'll be best to mail the gun back home as soon as I can, hopefully before I get out of Texas. For that reason, getting pulled over in Texas might've been good for me, but that depends on whether the next person with a gun I have to answer to is a lawman or a criminal...hopefully neither.
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