It seems hard to believe but a whole year has elapsed since I was here. It seems appropriate that, on the 15th anniversary of 9-11 that I reminisce a little about my trip to the good ole USA and particularly an amazing weekend spent in the Lone Star State of Texas.
The Texas weekend happened right near the end of the trip and was specifically included so that I could visit my Texas friends who visit here each year for the Island Classic and particularly my good friend Ottis Lance, who was doing it pretty tough as he tried to recuperate from his shocking accident in 2014.
After wandering through several level of DFW airport wondering what was the correct exit, I received an SMS from Mike Petitpas telling me that he and Otter were up on the top level car park waiting for me. Let’s see, top level car park, yeah, that’s easy, right? Not quite so but I did make it and found Otter’s white Lexus parked at the kerb. By this stage I was nearly used to the whole “driving on the wrong side of the road” thing so I went to the correct side of the car after Mike had put my luggage in the boot (sorry, “trunk”). Otter introduced me to Mike (who I had befriended on Facebook but never met) and we took off, heading for Otter’s place in Argyle, about an hour’s drive from the airport (it actually is quite a bit further away than that appears but, since you can pretty much legally do 95 MILES an hour on the highway, it only takes an hour!)
Soon we pulled in to a roadside shopping centre for Mike to pick up some provisions and he left us there in his car, heading in the opposite direction for his home. Before doing so he left strict instructions with Otter that he was to take me straight to his place and not stop off at any “tittie bars” along the way. My education into the finer points of Texas humour continued. It didn’t take long for me to become aware of just how poorly Ottis’s health was. His brave postings on Facebook about how well he was going were plainly wishful thinking. He was thin and emaciated (he doesn’t weigh much anyway) and it was very clear that the ongoing battle with the medical personnel who had originally treated him after the accident had totally worn him down. He was chain smoking (even though he admitted that he knew it was very bad for his recovery) and, as he told me the story of just how badly the job on his leg had been botched at the hospital in Plano, I realised first-hand, just how bad the situation was.
When we arrived at his house it was even more clear that he wasn’t travelling at all well. He walked with a walking stick and he was only just coping with living alone (with his dog and cat) and trying to manage his own rehabilitation. Even allowing for the severity of his injuries it was clear to my untrained eye that his recovery was not going to be a quick process.
Argyle is a lovely little semi rural hamlet, split in half by the railway line with houses on large allotments and a small collection of stores (note, please, that I am using the correct terminology – there was huge amusement when I mentioned that we needed to go to the “shops”) a Pre-School and a Middle School and that’s about it.
It was near the end of Summer when I visited and the temperature was hovering around the 100 degrees mark. Nevertheless, the following morning I set out for a walk around town just to get the feel of where Otter lived.
Around the corner from Otter’s house I found the local Middle School. The immediate impression was somewhat unnerving..
I checked, but I wasn’t “carrying” so I proceeded. Football practice was happening on the school oval with students, clad in full protective grid iron gear, being put through their paces under the baking summer sun. I planted myself with a small group of parents in the shade of one of the trees around the oval and had a fascinating conversation with a couple whose son was being fried on the field. What I found is what I had found whenever I had engaged Americans in conversation (which I had made it a habit of doing deliberately wherever I went) while on my trip. They were unfailingly polite, fiercely patriotic and genuinely interested in finding out about me and my country of origin. Americans really don’t know much about Australia at all as a general rule so being able to talk to an “Aussie” and find out stuff was something that they seemed to greatly enjoy. When practice was over they offered me a lift back to Otter’s place in their pick-up truck, just another example of Texas hospitality.
But I hadn’t come to Texas for the sightseeing, though I took every opportunity to do so. Later that morning, we hit the road in the direction of Cresson Motorsports Park. It was, according to Otter, “not far away.” but, travelling along the Interstates at nearly 100 mph, still used up well over an hour of the morning before we reached our destination. Passing Texas World Speedway along the way was another illustration of how Americans like things “big”.
Cresson is a purpose-built racetrack and, at the time of its construction in the 90’s, it became the first race track in the USA that was built as part of a housing estate. The apartment blocks on the property are owned, occupied and sometimes leased by people who live there because they WANT to be part of the motorsports precinct. Large garage units in the pit area of the track house the Porsches, Lambos and Ferraris that belong to the residents and which are used on the track by the residents when the track is not being used for motorsports events. None of the locals are going to be writing to their local council complaining about the noise anytime soon!
The day was scorching, well over 100 degrees yet there was a Six Hour Endurance Race taking place when we arrived. Riders were arriving at their pits at the end of their usual 1 hour stints, red in the face, covered in perspiration and looking like they had run a marathon in their leathers. The whole thing was truly an endurance race.
At the track I met some more of my American friends, Paulie Shaeffer (a regular IC visitor), Mike Petitpas (a new friend since last night) and David Hirsch, (a Facebook friend of long standing). During the course of the weekend I also made many more friends who I still follow on social media and with whom I still correspond. The trophy presentation was excellent and the team that David was supporting (he is the local Michelin distributor for the south of Texas) finished 3rd overall on a BMW S1000RR, a pretty sterling effort on a short track that is vastly better suited to the more nimble Supersports bikes (1st and 2nd were taken out by teams on 600’s)
For reasons that escape me entirely, Paulie and Mike had managed to organise it so that I was treated like visiting royalty at the track. An “Access All Areas” pass, the opportunity to commentate from the control tower and introductions to all the notables present for the weekend was a very humbling experience.
And it was at the track on that Saturday that I got a first-hand look at the cult status of my host, Ottis Lance. The word that he was at the track spread like wildfire and friends and acquaintances (I don’t think Otter has any of those, actually – everyone is Otter’s friend) gathered round to shoot the breeze and wish him well. I later found out that this was his first visit to a track since before his accident some 10 months before so, for many it was an emotional occasion. Here he is with another of my new friends, Jorge Guerrero.
A huge, Texas-style barbeque under the Michelin marquee finished off the day and I found out just how amazing Texas hospitality is.
Paulie organised accommodation at the motel on the other side of the highway for the Saturday night and it was at the buffet breakfast on the Sunday morning that I enjoyed (amongst other delicacies) the Texas-shaped waffle shown at the top of the article. Then it was back to the track for a day of sprint racing, again under the baking Texas sun.
The organising club CMRA, run a tight ship and it was one of the best organised race meetings for any level of racing that I have ever attended. It was supposed to be a club day but the organisation was worthy of a National Open meeting here!
My racing photographs were dreadful and somewhat limited by the inability to walk the long distances to the best vantage points but I got a few at least to prove that I had been there.
That night I went back to Mike’s place instead of Otter’s as Mike had volunteered to take me to the airport for my flight back to San Diego the following morning. There I met Mike’s absolutely charming wife, Patti, and enjoyed even more Texas hospitality. We talked long into the night about guns (an amicable discussion), motorcycles in general and Mike’s plans to come “down under” for the IC (hopefully that will happen soon). Neglecting to take into account that the time on my phone was set for West Coast timezone, heading off to bed near midnight actually meant that it was around 0200! The next morning was pretty rugged as Mike hustled me down the highway to DFW again and I boarded a flight, westward bound.
To say that I enjoyed my weekend in Texas is a huge understatement. Everything in Texas is big but what is biggest of all is the hearts of the people who live there. Like everywhere else that I visited in the States, I was overwhelmed with hospitality and friendliness.
The USA was well down the list of my preferred tourist destinations, but it proved to be an eye-opener in every sense. I’d go back in a heartbeat and I’d love to see Texas again.