Ken and Barbie
No tech here. This is just a story from the road, but a story with a hint of problems to come. Unfortunately, it was a hint I ignored. Austin to Seattle, day one. From my house to Stephenville, Texas is 160 miles. Driving 60 and allowing for small town slowdowns in between, that's around 3 hours in a 40, or about as much abuse as my ass can handle without a break. Stephenville is the first town of any size after Lampasas. It's a college town, self-proclaimed Cowboy Capital of the World, host of one of the country's largest rodeos, and site of the original Hard 8 Bar-B-Que. That's the place I like to stop for lunch. Hard 8 has world class BBQ at reasonable prices, all you can eat sides, and they hand out free beer. That's right, free beer. I'm told it's because they don't have a liquor license, and Texans demand beer with their BBQ, so they just give it away, as much as you can hold. It's crappy beer, usually Keystone, but the price is right and I've found that ice cold swill tastes pretty damn good after several hours spent bouncing around on buckboard seats and inhaling road dust. All their employees appear to be college students from Tarleton State. I've heard it's an aggie oriented school, and that fits what I see. Most of the diners look like ranch people--well worn boots and jeans, big Stetsons, people who know their beef. My kind of place.
I pull into the parking lot at a non-peak time. The lot is almost empty but as usual, I park in a remote spot. The drill here is to place your meat order at the outside smoker, then pick it up and pay at the counter inside, but before I can order, there's the matter of a long overdue pit stop. I go inside and take care of business, then I'm returning to the smoker when I see a small crowd gathered around Uncle Meldon's 40. They're all young, a couple of girls and two or three guys. I don't know if something is wrong, or they're getting ready to steal the truck, or if they're just curious, but my gear is inside so I walk out to investigate. No worries. Nothing is wrong. The 40 is just an unusual looking rig, to them anyway, and they're trying to figure out what they're seeing. They're all seniors at TSU, all clean cut, polite, and personable. Soon all of them drift inside except for one guy and girl who remain behind.
These two look like a cowboy version of Ken and Barbie. He's dark, and good looking. She's a cute pony-tailed blond, and she's sporting a walking cast that extends all the way to her hip. I'm in no hurry and happy to be standing up for a change, so we chat about trucks and things for a while. He's an Ag major, with an Army ROTC commission around the corner. He's going on to Ranger school and thinks he'll be in Iraq within a year. She's a Biology major who's been accepted to veterinary medicine school. I don't see a ring but it sounds like they're engaged. I ask what happened to her leg, She says she was training a horse for a rodeo competion, thrown, and her leg broken in several places. She's matter-of-fact about her misfortune and says it didn't stop her from graduating on time. She's an honor student. Her cast comes off next month, and she's eager to ride again. I like her attitude; she has what my Grandmother would have called spunk. They both graduate in May. They have a few questions about the rig, and ask where I'm going. I'm getting hungry so I give 'em the Cliff's Notes version. They confess that neither of them have ever been outside Texas, and they're envious of the road trip. They tell me they enjoyed the conversation, then go inside. I think to myself, these are nice kids, the type you'd be proud to call your own. I assume they're here to eat with their friends. College students, free beer, seems a reasonable assumption.
Since I'm already at the truck, I decide to check fluids before eating. The clutch reservoir is almost empty. Strange, since it was full when I left Austin, but I don't see any signs of leakage so I top it off, and head back to the smoker. I don't recognize him at first with an apron and gimme cap, but the kid cutting meat at the smoker is the same polite Ag major I just spoke with out at the truck. He sees that I'm puzzled and explains that there had been a shift change, and the crowd around the 40 was the incoming shift. Oh, I say, I thought they were all out there admiring the cool Land Cruiser. He grins and says "Some of us were."
I order brisket and a hot link. He says that I should try the ribs too. He highly recommends them and they're just out of the smoker, so I agree and he gives me a huge half rack, and what appears to be more brisket and sausage than I requested. This has to be $30 worth of meat, way more than I need to eat, but what can I say. I'm weak. I lug the tray inside and grab my silverware, move on down the line to the register, and there's the pony-tail girl with the cast. She's the checker. I hand her my credit card. She hands it back without swiping, winks, and says "Have a great trip. If you come through here on the way back, stop and tell us about it." I'm flying back from Hawaii and there's no way I'll ever see these kids again, with him in Iraq and her in vet school, but I say "Sure, I'll do that." I try to hand her the card again and she won't take it. She sort of wrinkles up her face and barely shakes her head sideways, as if to say "Stop, please let me do this for you." By now there's a line behind me and no point in embarrassing her by arguing so I pocket my card, drop $20 in the tip jar, and find a seat. The ribs are as good as advertised, and the free beer doesn't taste nearly as bad as I remember. I make quick work of it.
Before leaving I consider finding Ken and Barbie and wishing them well, but by now the place is really crowded and I'm behind schedule, so I hike out to The Turtle, climb in, and fire up the mighty 2F. There's a little wooden split rail fence surrounding the Hard 8 building and as I prepare to pull out of the parking lot, I glance back and see those two kids, Ken and Barbie, future Army Ranger and future vet, standing at the fence waving. I feel proud of them, a couple of small town kids with big dreams and the moxie to make them happen. What a country this is!
I wave back, engage the clutch, and I'm off...
(or do they? )
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