Texas

Texas should be called "Wind". Actually, it should be called Stupid Wind. And Stupid Wind would be short for "It doesn't matter which direction I'm heading, the wind will always be a head wind with lots of turbulence, or a side wind that will plaster your jacket to your body so air can't flow through it so you get even sweatier, or wind such that when you pass a tractor trailer you get blasted by the wind and you do your best impression of a motorcycle bobble-head and I shake my fist at the sky and and yell 'don't make it any hotter! Don't make it any windier! '"

And of course the wind is a hot wind, so in desperation you crack your visor for some extra ventilation, but all you do is simply cook your eyeballs to toast and you can't see while uttering words like "gahrrr, aaiiee, and grrrr...".

And speaking of seeing - what's with all the extra light down here? There would be plenty enough light to see by with only half this light! It's all these patches of blue sky that lets the light in, then the light bounces off the ground into the clouds, which in turn get sent back down into my burning eyeballs a second time. Too much light!

Texas is too big. I was on the same road for an entire day. That shouldn't be allowed. You should be forced to take some other road for awhile just to have a change-up. I didn't like looking at my GPS and reading "next turn in one zillion miles".

So there you have it:
Hot winds
Blue holes in the sky
Endless roads

And when I'm sitting around on a cold, wet night in Portland, dreaming of being anywhere else, one of the songs that comes to mind is Chris Rea's song - Texas. How does it go?
Warm winds blowin'
Heat and Blue Skies,
And a road that goes forever...

Yeah, and in mid fist shake I have to stop and laugh my ass off, realizing I got exactly what I asked for and, actually, I'm grateful for it.