I had fallen asleep somewhere in Arkansas, woken up just before crossing the state line at Texarkana, and spent the morning passing through the sprawling Panhandle. There seemed no end to the Texas countryside flowing by as I sat under the Perspex-bubble roof covering the second-floor viewing lounge and the Texas Eagle plowed on southward. “Now we’re passing through Taylor, home of legendary black cowboy Bill Pickett,” announced a National Parks volunteer who had materialized in the lounge to provide a running commentary. “Yeah!” shouted a lady a couple of tables away from me, slapping a hand down, as others in the lounge grinned and nodded appreciatively. After fifteen hours aboard an Amtrak train, I was finally in Texas. I had initially arrived in New…View Original Post
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