Day 15 - October 16 - Perryton, TX to Canyon, TX (172 miles)

    Well, after an interesting day in Perryton, I was back at the hotel, assessing the day and planning for the next. I went next door to the very nice Margarita's Restaurant and found that the Friday night buffet was available. Constituents were: rib-eye steak, deep-fried catfish, popcorn shrimp, salad, and a bunch of other stuff - all one could eat for $10.99. I was taken aback while walking to the buffet table when I heard one of my fellow diners order a beer. A BEER! Here in the dry-as-a-bone Ochiltree County? Well, my waitress told me (accompanied by broad winks and guffaws from my fellow diners) that for no cost I could become a "Preliminary Member" of the Private Club which was a part of this restaurant. Yes! I love hypocrisy!

    Well, the beef was tough, the catfish was pretty darn good, and everything else got better and better as the Coors Light flowed (I only had two...really!). I did have a fine conversation with my lovely and talented daughter Meredith too (on the 'phone, of course).

   Next morning, I was down for breakfast and loading up the bike for the trip to Canyon. To be blunt, those who ride around in cages (aka cars) don't have the fun of getting stuff (helmet, gloves, camera, luggage etc.) down from some upper floor of a hotel to the parking lot. Then, off comes the lock, the cover for the bike, the cover is folded, the tank bag is put on, the lock is stowed, glasses off, helmet on, glasses on, gloves on, key for bike is fished out of jeans (one layer below armored pants), something is missed, cursing ensues, nearby Texas ladies are appalled by biker's language, and it all begins again. I'm surprised I actually get anywhere...

    OK. I'm on the road to Canyon. Candidly, there's nothing forgettable about Texas, at least as I have seen it so far. I was thinking about how Oscar, Robert and Mary Lou might have driven from Perryton to Canyon so my Father could start school. I could not quite figure out the most direct local road, but don't think it would have made much difference as the Texas roads of the 1920s are long gone.

    I zoomed (I love my motorcycle) down to Amarillo in no time at all. Bright, hot, intense sun all the way, 3500 feet ASL, and a Starbucks waiting for me. Life is good. Lots of motorcycles (Harleys and Hondas) lots of folks not wearing helmets, lots of friendly people waving. I like Texas (but I'm still gonna wear my helmet)!

    I arrived in Amarillo. There is a restaurant here called "The Big Texan." Many billboards all over the place: "72-oz. Steak - FREE!" Locals tell me it is. Do you think you could eat 4.5 pounds of meat in one sitting? Eep!

    Anyway, in my quest to understand local culture, I went into the Amarillo iteration of one of those ubiquitous "Gun and Pawn" shops which I saw all across Arkansas and Oklahoma. I figured that the Texas version in general, and the Amarillo version in particular might be a good place to see what was going on inside. As you might expect, there were pistols and a few revolvers in display counters, and a large rack of shotguns and rifles behind (this was not a grim place...go into a local pawn shop sometime in your area if you want to see a grim pawnshop). Since it was also a pawn shop, it had some musical instruments, jewelry and other stuff around, but guns seemed to be the main event. For those who think that Texas is the Old West, and that the laws down here let anybody buy a gun, well, it's not true. I spoke with Gary at this particular place, and he said that a handgun buyer has to produce a valid Texas driver's license, and pass an instant FBI background check. Also, money must change hands. Without a Texas DL, I was dead in the water (so to speak). Shotguns and rifles are available to those from contiguous states (not Mexico). I explained the Massachusetts firearms laws to Gary as he smoked a cigarette in the parking lot. We then got into the subject of taxation. Seems he lives in a $315,000 house in Amarillo, and pays $8,000/year in property taxes. Sales tax amounts to about 8.25% (two different entities). Edging a little into politics, Gary said that he could not imagine anyone in Amarillo admitting that "they were a Democrat." He told me I should move to Amarillo.

    Back on the road, I was soon (about 15 miles) into Canyon, TX. I had no reservation, but Carl at the Holiday Inn Express was pleased to see me and give me a very fine room. I stowed my stuff (only minor cursing involved), and then went off to glide (not zoom...there were cops with radar guns) around the town. My quest involved finding a circa-1920s water tower I saw in some of the photos of my father which Karin Heymer sent me from WT. I found a suitable tower near an athletic field. Detective work on Monday might help me with this.

     Interesting fact about Amarillo/Canyon: the railroad is alive, well, present and moving fast around here. E.G: I was hauling along at 72mph on the motorcycle on my way to Amarillo and it took me about 15 minutes to pass a freight train moving in the same direction. I started counting cars but stopped at 40. For you railroad types, three engines were pulling and two were pushing. Big consist, eh?