Yesterday, we drove up from Austin to Dallas, taking the back roads rather than the interstate this time. It took a little longer, but it was worth it to see what the real Texas countryside looks like. Despite the rain, it was impressive. I would still find it difficult to call it beautiful, but that’s probably my New Englander sensibilities talking. Green forests, leafy glades, ocean vistas, and roadside waterfalls are more likely to elicit oohs and aahs from the passing auto. Still, there was a compelling severity about the view. Miles and miles of mesquite and hard-scrabble yellow grass to the horizon, interrupted every so often by run-down little towns, gas stations abandoned to the modern high gas-mileage car, tourist shops decimated by the flyby interstate opening up.
What’s left is tough and rough America, people eking out their living the same old way their parents and grandparents did working the land, raising livestock, or selling stuff to those who do. I used to think that the depiction of such places in TV and movies was a stereotype, but they actually do look like that. Some of them look like they could have been exactly the same 30 years ago, just the cars are newer.
