I drove across The Land of Enchantment following big, mighty I-40 withs it's dilapidated winding running mate Route 66 alongside. The pine poked mountains and chapparal encrusted hills diminish mile by mile until the Land of Enchantment gives way to the grasslands and barely registering swells of west Texas. Even though the chilly temperature last night chased me out of the mountains, driving in the flatlands is something else. All day long the temperature has been swaying between 97, 96, 99. Whenever I pull over and climb out of the car, gusts of hot air push me back a little. I have to lean in slightly just to walk forward.
...
I'm in the top hat of Texas. I don't think anyone calls it that. I think most people just refer to it as the Oklahoma panhandle, even though the panhandle is really attached to Oklahoma, leaving Texas with a top hat. No Texan in his right mind would ever be caught in a top hat, but I don't care. If congress really had the foresight in the 1800s, they would have put the pan upside down, the handle sticking out, and supply geography students with the perfect depiction of the Texas state hat, the baseball cap instead. I'm just saying.
