Heading South in a Glass Roof Mustang GT, Part Two

Day two on the road to Terlingua took us through the rolling hills of Oklahoma, stopping on the way to film windy back road sequences for our internet TV show, Garage419. There was no shortage of random dirtroads to practice drifting the Mustang, which proved to be very easy and controlled with traction control turned off. Nine hours, 700 miles, and one speeding ticket later (92 in a 75) we arrive in Wichita  Falls, Texas, the first sign of actual civilization once across the Texas border. We park the car at the hotel and proceed to the nearest watering hole, which is where our story turns interesting.

Bar #1: Brenda’s Pub

The virtually unmarked building was literally the closest thing to us, so it was worth a shot. Plus, there were two Hummers and a Porsche  Cayenne in the parking lot, the nicest cars we had seen all day (no, really), so we walked inside. I have never had a metal detector used  on me when entering a bar before, and we realized quickly that we were  out of our element. Not a single woman in the bar weighed less than  250 pounds, and every guy looked like a carbon copy of David Banner. Apparently, there was a two-tattoo minimum to get in and since we fell short, we felt out of place. Needless to say, my Polo shirt and Piloti driving shoes stood out a little bit. One styrofoam-cupped beverage later, we were on our way.

Bar #2: Montana’s

Just half a block down the road, Montanas’ parking lot was full of pickup trucks and Harleys, and that’s what Texas is all about, so we went inside. You know all those Jeff Foxworthy jokes about rednecks? In reality, Jeff Foxworthy’s description falls short… reality is so much worse. I ordered a Grey Goose and tonic from the biker bartender who, incidentally, looked a little too much like Charles  Manson, and he promptly asked me what Grey Goose was. This, despite the fact that the bottle of Goose, nearly full, was front and center on the liquor shelf. Tommy, my cameraman, asked for "the best tasting beer you’ve got, and was handed a $1.50 Budweiser. If there were ten teeth scattered among the thirty or so patrons, it was a lot. The air was thick with smoke, and I heard the line, "Y’all ain’t from ’round here is ya?" No fewer  than four times. Before the other patrons got to the ‘"you sure do got a purty mouth" comments, we left and walked next door.

Bar #3: Kill’n It Karaoke

Believe it or not, in my 26 years I have never been to a karaoke bar, certainly not one in a town like this. The bar was half full with twenty and thirty-somethings, all dressed relatively normally, thoughI was clearly overdressed in my Ralph Lauren t-shirt and jeans. In fact, with the exception of not knowing a single one of the country songs sung in drunken chorus, I decided that it was the most normalplace in town and we stayed for more than five minutes. My recommendation: if the opportunity ever arises to hear six fat redneck girls try to do karaoke to "Big Pimpin’," get yourself a front row seat… it’s better than the Bertha Milkshake YouTube video.

More to come from the road to Terlingua.