I continued rolling south out of Temple by late morning yesterday, intent on finding a cool historic town (or historical – Texas seems split down the middle as to the correct usage) with something going on.
The historic part wasn't at all difficult, but finding a place that wasn't dead quiet on this Saturday proved all but impossible.
In town after town, I could practically hear a pin drop, and nowhere could I find that down home cafe serving up some good old Texas barbecue, or a rickety old saloon where I could suck on a Shiner while chewing the fat with the locals. Modest goals, but despite my best efforts, it felt as though all of Texas was conspiring to be wherever I was not on this day.
Places like these seem just as tragic as the faux-historic tourist traps I've lamented in the past. Stuccoed-over replicas amidst a sea of gift shops and junk food vendors will never fail to bore me, but perhaps equally regrettable is letting such authentic gems lie vacant, just waiting to fall irretrievably into decay.
Surely there must be a happy medium solution that can breathe life into all these turn-of-the-century time capsules while not Disney-fying them to death?
Alas, the day was not a total loss. Farm fresh free range eggs for only 2 bucks a dozen caught my eye in Bartlett, and I savored the opportunity to not only add to my supply, but also carry on an all-too-brief conversation with an actual person.