No need for loose plans, they were already ingrained. My wanderings out to the Hook of Texas seemed hard wired for some reason. Their own rituals, checklists, hot spots, and views. Solo this trip out, I missed my daughters everywhere I looked. They talked the whole way last year, the entire 8 hour drive, the time flew, everything was new to them, the Monahans Sandhills blew them away. Alone this year, I biked a loop, I ate a quick lunch, I was grateful, I found Revolution Road 1776, and I sped south.
But first, a quart of oil for the old, black 2011 Toyota Camry. A fine, fine automobile. Air still conditions, roof still moons, seats still bucket. Bike fits in the back seat. 217k miles seems imminent.
I drove into Alpine late afternoon, clouds were gathering, the sun was whipping them up, the mountains made them swirl, it was glorious. My spirit jumped, it still had hops, it just missed the competition. Hiked up Hancock Hill in the early evening, rode over to Alpine Country Club to check out the golf course, and ended up at Dairy Queen staring at a Belt Buster combination and large Pecan Cluster Blizzard. The El Viejo Adobe was just as I had left it. My home away from home.