Welcome to Paradise: Terry and Peggy Go For A Ride

We took the long way to get here, leaving Wichita Falls at 6 am and meandering up HWY 287 through places with names like Chillicothe and Estilline and Turkey. We saw loooooong trains and a Model T truck (driven by a guy who was probably the original owner) stopped at a traffic light next to a ‘90-something F-150.

We ate in Quanah, at a place where the waitress said “y’all aren’t from around here, are you?” and I asked her how she could tell. She laughed and said “I know everyone.” The food there at Briscoe’s was…holy crow…delicious. We knew it would be good by all the cars parked out front even tho it was 10:30 and not exactly prime breakfast time. Perfectly cooked eggs, fluffy biscuits as big as Terry’s fist with a bowl of milk gravy to dunk them in, and perfectly sweet tea. Texas sweet tea isn’t like Southern sweet tea. You don’t feel an urge to pour it on your pancakes. It held us well through The Speed Trap known as Estelline (168) where we turned west and south to see Turkey, and the Bob Wills Memorial.

We went over the Caprock, where Real Texans come from (just ask them. Texans are Better Than Everyone Else ™, and Texans From Above The Caprock Are Better Than Other Texans ™ )

I know this is true because Aunt Martha told me so. I felt a stirring in my soul as we topped The Caprock…of course, that may have been the gravy from my biscuits. Anyway, we left the hill country and gleefully entered the High Plains, top down, hair blowing and singing along to Tom Petty. I love the high plains. It’s windy, and there’s no trees, and you get to see The Big Damn Tractor of Sheer Manliness with it’s 40 row disc harrow stirring up dust and being all American. You think Silverton is right over the next “hill”, but really, it’s 12 miles away and y’know, you’re wondering if you’ll ever get there. When you do, it’s 7 houses, a quickie store, a Catholic church and a HUGE grain elevator. They’re all like that, these little bitty Texas towns. Every other town has a Methodist church and a dance hall.

We saw a drive in theater, advertised as “halfway between Quitequa and Turkey, and New York and Los Angeles”

Ah, here’s a challenge, tell me how to pronounce “Quitequa” and do it without googling it. A gold star to the one who gets it right.