THE CARL'S CORNER-ITASCA-GRANDVIEW CORRIDOR
I took a drive last weekend to put some miles on my new car, because, I'm barely leaving the house these days, and it's like having a thoroughbred racehorse locked up in the barn. I headed south again, in the direction of Hillsboro, because it's pretty around there. I decided to get off the highway at Carl's Corner, the famed truckstop where Willie Nelson once held his 4th of July Picnic. Last time I was there, I was impressed by how the whole place had been cleaned up and remodeled (it used to look like a scary ... um ... truckstop), with Willie's name on everything: the gas pumps, the convenience store, the restaurant, and the theater. That was a couple of years ago (which I wrote about here), and I was amused by the Willie-centric convenience store, with as many souvenirs emblazoned with marijuana leaves as with Willie's name. But when I pulled into the parking lot on Sunday, Willie's Place was gone and had been replaced by something looking very corporate. Willie was obviously no longer affiliated with the place. (A nice little look back at Willie's Place is here).
I picked up an iced tea and wandered around, wondering where all the kitsch had gone. Maybe it's all made its way to Willie's merch tables.
As I was checking out, the woman at the register -- who looked exactly like the kind of woman you'd expect to see manning a register at a truckstop convenience store (...not that there's anything wrong with that...) -- looked at me intently and said, "Do I know you?"
I was a little surprised. I don't get that question very often.
"I don't think so."
"You sure?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"You don't come in here all the time? You look like one of our regulars."
"No, I haven't been here since Willie was here," and I gave a sort of Carol Merrill sweep with my hand back toward the place where the acreage of Willie Nelson tchotchkes had once been displayed so proudly, conveniently near the snack foods and the Zippo lighters.
"Huh. That's funny. I swear you look just like one of my regulars." As she handed me my change she narrowed her eyes and gave me a look like "I DO know you, don't I? What kind of game are you playin' at, missy?"
I walked back to my car wondering whether it was a badge of honor or shame to have a doppelgänger who cruised the Texas truckstops.
That was the sole moment of human interaction on my little trip. It was a great drive, though, especially as I discovered Little Steven's Underground Garage channel on XM radio (which I have free for three months before they take it away from me). GREAT music -- everything from Slim Harpo and Ray Charles to '60s garage bands and early Bee Gees to bands I've never heard of who are recording cool music TODAY (who knew!).
So, yeah, I took pictures, but I think I hit a weird setting on my camera, because everything came out vaguely fuzzy and washed out. Kind of the way I feel these days. And with that, I give you this:
For the first time I know what these things are called. I knew they weren't grain "elevators" but they are used to store grain: grain bins. This is down the road a bit from Carl's Corner.
Just past the GRAIN BINS.
Farm. Camera setting: blurry (can not be helped by "sharpen" tool).
Farm equipment or art installation? I really love this, and I vote "art." The city slicker has spoken.
Prairie.
I don't know what kind of plant this is. Again, blurry, so I just pumped up the color, 'cause it was never going to look the way I saw it. The field was a delicate, waving orange carpet -- really, really pretty. Anyone know what this is? Just outside Itasca.
Itasca, other side of the tracks.
Itasca, right side of the tracks. Home of the Wampus Cats.
Itasca. Main drag. I LOVE that catfish sign!
Leaving Hill County, about to enter Johnson County. Looks like a flatter version of the landscape in the opening of "Little House on the Prairie."
Grandview. I have no idea what a "campasino" is, unless it's someone's last name. My guess is "campesino" (Spanish for fieldworker) was misspelled somewhere along the way. Sign companies need proofreaders, too!
Outside Grandview (or, hell, IN it for all I know). Deserted shack, next door to a nicer house with a garden in the front. I've cropped out the nice house, because, really, who needs to see that?
This view from a narrow road a little ways from from the shack. Back-end of a church facing picturesque I-35.
I picked up an iced tea and wandered around, wondering where all the kitsch had gone. Maybe it's all made its way to Willie's merch tables.
As I was checking out, the woman at the register -- who looked exactly like the kind of woman you'd expect to see manning a register at a truckstop convenience store (...not that there's anything wrong with that...) -- looked at me intently and said, "Do I know you?"
I was a little surprised. I don't get that question very often.
"I don't think so."
"You sure?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"You don't come in here all the time? You look like one of our regulars."
"No, I haven't been here since Willie was here," and I gave a sort of Carol Merrill sweep with my hand back toward the place where the acreage of Willie Nelson tchotchkes had once been displayed so proudly, conveniently near the snack foods and the Zippo lighters.
"Huh. That's funny. I swear you look just like one of my regulars." As she handed me my change she narrowed her eyes and gave me a look like "I DO know you, don't I? What kind of game are you playin' at, missy?"
I walked back to my car wondering whether it was a badge of honor or shame to have a doppelgänger who cruised the Texas truckstops.
That was the sole moment of human interaction on my little trip. It was a great drive, though, especially as I discovered Little Steven's Underground Garage channel on XM radio (which I have free for three months before they take it away from me). GREAT music -- everything from Slim Harpo and Ray Charles to '60s garage bands and early Bee Gees to bands I've never heard of who are recording cool music TODAY (who knew!).
So, yeah, I took pictures, but I think I hit a weird setting on my camera, because everything came out vaguely fuzzy and washed out. Kind of the way I feel these days. And with that, I give you this:
For the first time I know what these things are called. I knew they weren't grain "elevators" but they are used to store grain: grain bins. This is down the road a bit from Carl's Corner.
Just past the GRAIN BINS.
Farm. Camera setting: blurry (can not be helped by "sharpen" tool).
Farm equipment or art installation? I really love this, and I vote "art." The city slicker has spoken.
Prairie.
I don't know what kind of plant this is. Again, blurry, so I just pumped up the color, 'cause it was never going to look the way I saw it. The field was a delicate, waving orange carpet -- really, really pretty. Anyone know what this is? Just outside Itasca.
Itasca, other side of the tracks.
Itasca, right side of the tracks. Home of the Wampus Cats.
Itasca. Main drag. I LOVE that catfish sign!
Leaving Hill County, about to enter Johnson County. Looks like a flatter version of the landscape in the opening of "Little House on the Prairie."
Grandview. I have no idea what a "campasino" is, unless it's someone's last name. My guess is "campesino" (Spanish for fieldworker) was misspelled somewhere along the way. Sign companies need proofreaders, too!
Outside Grandview (or, hell, IN it for all I know). Deserted shack, next door to a nicer house with a garden in the front. I've cropped out the nice house, because, really, who needs to see that?
This view from a narrow road a little ways from from the shack. Back-end of a church facing picturesque I-35.