5 Things Texans Do That Don’t Make Sense

Okay, if you clicked on this link, you are either one of two types of people…

Either you are from Texas and you wanted to be reminded of all of the absolutely senseless and strange things you do…just to keep your state citizenship status.

Or you aren’t from Texas and wanted to confirm the fact that you never want to be a Texan.

So here goes.

5. The scenery

Who in their right minds stops along a busy highway, gets their kids out of their car and heads to a patch of flowers (Bluebonnets and Indian Paint Brush) to take pictures?

I mean really, it’s as if we’ve never seen flowers.

Of course, they only pop out once a year for a few weeks and then they are trampled underfoot by the “photographing hordes”, but really, is the highway the safest place to stop?

And while we are at it, what’s the deal with the Cadillac Ranch.  I mean, what was that Panhandle farmer thinking?…”Well, it looks like the Caddie is shot.  She won’t start and I can’t bear to get rid of her.  How about we dig a grave for her?  Yep.  We’ll just push her in and cover her up.  Ooops.  Didn’t dig it deep enough.  Shoot.”

Repeat 7 or 8 more times and you have a state monument.

4. The food

When I first moved to Texas I thought refried beans were dog food.  Now I eat them once a week.

And jalapeños.

Why would anyone in a state as hot as Texas ever eat one of those things?

(I buy them by the gallon.)

3.The vehicles

We are in love with the pick-up.  It’s as if they’ve never made another vehicle.  And doolies.  Only the “bad boys” drive doolies.  Why would I need 2 extra tires to go to the Neighborhood Wal-mart?

2. The clothing

This was the shocker for me.  When I got here, everyone had big, silver belt buckles and their names on the back of the belts.  I thought they put their names on their belts in case they ever forgot who they were…but then that didn’t make sense either.  Add to it the hats and boots and it’s like you’ve moved to another country.

You have.

It’s called Texas.

1.The language

Texas has its own language and its own accent.  We say “howdy”, “ya’ll” and “fixin’ to”.

When you order a soda you have to call it a “Coke”.

Most of us think we know Spanish because we can say Quesadilla and Chimichunga.

Wow, we are weird.

But, man, I love Texas.

I’m sorry, you just can’t find better people.

Here’s an example.

Noah and I were traveling around the state seeing the forts and we had just gone out to Ballinger, Texas to see the gigantic metal cross.  On the way back in, we had a flat tire on the rear passenger side of the truck.

I pulled over and assessed the damage.

I also noticed that the Sun was starting to set and I needed to hurry to get the tire changed.

I got into NASCAR pit crew mode while Noah watched from the truck.

After I got the tire off and got the spare out, I started to put the spare on.

As I was inching the tire over the wheel studs, the truck fell off the jack.

I jumped back as fast as I could as the wheel came down and almost crushed my arm.

(I think God moved me out of the way.)

Now, I had even more problems.

How was I going to get the jack under the frame to jack it back up? How was I going to keep it from falling again?  Were my rear brakes ruined now?

Pondering these questions along with the meaning of life, I noticed a van pulling over behind us and slowing down.

You may have seen a van like this.

No windows, wall-to-wall shag, bearded people (of course excluding the lady) and dirty windows.

I thought to myself, “Oh, my, what is this?”

Two stout guys with ZZ Top beards got out and then the sliding door opened up.  The lady got out, too.

“Need some help?” they asked.

Loaded question.  Of course I did, but I didn’t know if I wanted their help.  I mean to say, I was hoping they weren’t going to try and knock me in the head and take off with my son and the truck while driving on the rim…I have a very vivid imagination sometimes.

“Well, my truck fell off the jack” I responded half-heartedly.

“Let’s grab the hydraulic jack and get him up off of the road” the oldest beard said to the younger beard.

They then went to work, jacked the truck up, put the tire on and loaded back up.

I was stunned.

I had been in need of help, judged people incorrectly and had been thoroughly blessed by their kindness.

I got out my wallet just to give them some money for their trouble.

“Put it back.  We don’t need it.  Just help someone else.”

That is why I love Texas.

In Texas, it doesn’t matter what you look like, where you’re from or where you’re going.  Your skin color, your church, your problems, your money and your accent don’t matter.

It doesn’t even matter if you were born here.

If you’re here right now, then you’re one of us.

And, if you aren’t here now, when you get here, you’ll be one of us.

Texans will give you their opinion, argue with you until they are “blue in the face” and then give you the shirt off their back.

They look at problems like God’s way of giving them a big challenge.  He only gives big challenges to “big” states and so He must think we can handle it.

From tornadoes to boiling heat, from mosquitos the size of birds, to cockroaches you could put a saddle on, Texas is different and there isn’t anything a Texan can’t handle.

At least that’s what we think.

Go ahead.  Ask them.  They’ll tell you.

And the heart of Texas is bigger than the state.  If you don’t believe me, you may want to check out these statistics on Hurricane Katrina.  (Texas spent an estimated $338 million on education for the school-aged victims of Katrina in Texas schools and $126.2 million for health care.)

It didn’t start with Katrina and it won’t end there either.

So, why are the people of Texas like this?

I think it’s in the air.

When you cross the border, you smell something different.

Opportunity.

When you cross the border, you come for a different reason.

Things weren’t so hot where you were.

People born here never had much except the state and people who move here didn’t bring much.

But the people here shared their little bit (and still do) and the people who come bring their little bit (and they still do) and there seems to be enough for everyone.

And even though nothing else that Texans do makes sense, the open hands you experience in Texas does make sense.

This isn’t mandated by some state agency when you change your license plates to Texas plates.

It’s the heart of the people that come here and decide to stay.

And so, Texans don’t have to be told to share.  They don’t have to be told to look out for their neighbors.  They don’t have to told to be “nice”.

We just are.

And if you don’t believe me, then come on down here and we’ll show you.

©2010 Eric Bruntmyer. All rights reserved.