San Antonio, TX to Bracketville, TX

Wednesday May 28, 2008

Groggy and sleepy-eyed I woke at 6:45am and sprung out of bed to say goodbye to Leslie (Ben's wife) since she was heading to work. Dragging my feet a little, I was finally ready to go by 11:30am after last minute research since the West Texas strecth makes me a bit nervous. I mean, if you don't plan well (knowing where you can get food, water, and stay for the night), your trip could end, and not positively.

Not wanting to morph into a tumbleweed with dry cracked lips, I spent a lot of time making sure I knew what was where in West Texas before setting off. The plan today was simply to get a lift well out of San Antonio and a boost to Bracketville right on Hwy 90 where I would start pedaling tomorrow. Simple enough.

Not even into one hour into the ride, just after commenting to Ben that his 1998 Ford Ranger was still looking good (and his confirmation it was working well too), the temperature gauge on the truck was pegged as we had reached Castroville (a west of San Antonio suburb). A pop of the hood and a quick look showed something that looked like Yahoo or Nestle Quik in his radiator. A few less than environmentally friendly actions later, and we decided to let the truck cool before giving it a trial run. That is when we met the friendly yet aggressive bully host of Pizza Hut, Carolyn.

As soon as we walked in the Pizza Hut door, her friendly but loud voice hit us "You fellas having the buffet?!" Um, well, I guess so. "Whatcha drinkin?" Um, whatever you think I should have, I guess. She was a 65-year old-ish woman with tight high gray hair and what may have been some new wrinkle-hiding makeup. After finishing our meals, she came by to talk a bit. Having found we had a breakdown, she recommended "Go to Albino's Garage down 90 just a bit more. They are good people. They'll treat you real fair." Satisfied with this advice, but hoping our analysis and environment-tainting actions fixed the problem, we were preparing to leave. She added "Ask for Mike. I play poker with him on Tuesdays sometimes." This was unexpected. I wondered if she ever intimidated Mike and others into folding when they likely had a winning hand.

Well, our fix didn't take. So down the road we found our way to Albino's and met Mike. Mike was a 37 year old guy with a young face, married with kids. Tired of working on the Toyota he had in the air, he looked happy to see a new project roll up. A quick diagnosis followed by a "I failed to maintain my vehicle, gosh, I am so embarrassed" confession by Ben, a side conversation about Mike's hobby of racing vehicles back when gas was cheaper, and Mike made a quick trip to the local NAPA. An hour or more later, and we were ready to go. Failed thermostat, potentially clogged by the sludge rolling through the cooling system. Albino's was a unique repair shop. Probably the only one I have ever seen with a piano in the waiting room.

In Bracketville, we found a restaurant named Julies. After entertaining oursleves in the roller-chairs they have, I had a BLT, while Ben had catfish. A local woman sat near us and after a couple questions from me about where the motel was, she asked questions about my trip. Her face suggested I would die, but her words were kind of supportive, kind of. After her dinner friends showed up, they were genuinely supportive and encouraging. Glad to see they weren't all suggesting hanging it up.

The story of Bracketville and neighboring Fort Clark Springs in a nutshell:
Fort Clark is a historic place. The last fort in the US to actively train and use cavalry. Now a privately owned place, it was once used as a military installation in US-Mexico wars, as well as the various wars with the Indians. To support the fort, Bracketville (first known as Bracket until the Post Office suggested the name change because there was already a Bracket, TX) popped up and provided supplies, etc. Tonight, I stayed at the only motel in town: Fort Clark Springs. The 12-room (estimate) motel was the barracks for the troops stationed there at one time. It was actually really nice, and the place should be seen if you ever go through there. They have a quirky no-photo policy, but I have a no-listen policy sometimes, too, so it worked out.

Tonight I went to bed filled with both anticipation and excitement for a portion of the trip I so heavily researched and planned, as well as anxiety that there was something I had forgotten or would come up at the wrong time in the middle of nowhere.