Doin' it for the ride

So many of my friends here in Nor Cal say, "I could never live in Texas." I think they see that giant red blob on an election map and get left coast blind. "I've heard Austin is cool, though," and it is. If it wasn't for the sweet mountain biking trails out here, I'd be moving to Austin. Here's why:

I'm spoiled by love and good cooking when I'm out there. My little niece and nephews say, "Auntie, me like you," (except the five year old whose education has taught him that I is the correct subject pronoun) a few times a day, and we wrestle on their trampoline. My dad takes me shopping like I'm not a grown woman with a salary, and lets me drive his sweet car. Both my sister and my stepmom are awesome cooks.

I could buy two whole houses with big yards out there for the price of a condo out here. At this point, I can only dream of having my own garage.

A man can go to church on Sunday and have lunch at a topless restaurant on Monday, all while carrying a concealed weapon. How free is that?

Road riding down the dog gauntlet of County Road 474 makes you faster. One of those freakin' dogs was still racing me at 25 mph. And they show you their sharp little canines while they chase you. And bark. Loud.

Drive-through Starbucks with employees on the intercom who say "Whoo whee, aren't you a brave one?" when you order the bran muffin, then sing to you before you drive up to the pick-up window only to find that he (she?) looks like Pat from Saturday Night Live when you get there.
True story. Go to the drive-through Starbucks in Temple, see for yourself.

Wide open spaces. Even in the mobile home parks there's lots of yard space around each double-wide. At first I was freaked out driving down the road with a lack of mountains holding me down on the earth, but when I got used to it, I really realized how the Bay Area is a land of sardine packed homes, many large with dinky yards.

Warnings, not speeding tickets. So, daddy's sweet car is so smooth, I didn't notice I was speeding. The State Troopers pulled me over, and I was so sure my California license would send the trooper into fits of throwing the book at the silly liberal (I've seen too many movies about the civil rights era, I guess). He ran my license, then had me sign a warning. I asked him what a warning was, and he said, "You just promised to drive more safely on our highways, ma'am." When was the last time the CHP did that for you?

And besides that, Austin feels like a cowboy's Santa Cruz. So mellow, and ever so Texas friendly. Healthy looking people, lesbian bookstores, fashionable people, a little blue-state paradise in the middle of red-ville.

I'm telling ya', if they only had the sweet mountains, I'd suffer through the 107 degree summer for these perks. But I lust for the sweet dirt of the Santa Cruz mountains. How did Superdownhill Girl stay away for so long? But, you notice, she's back.