A Close Encounter

Our experience yesterday afternoon, last night, and this morning at the Midland, Texas, Walmart was interesting to say the least. Big rig trucks loaded with drill pipe and equipment for the oil fields came and went all night long. We went to sleep to the sound of engines idling and the sight of headlight flashing through the windows. As expected, I stressed most of the night about finding a route out of the parking lot in the morning, and dismissed the idea of getting close to the cheap Walmart fuel appeared to be out of the question.

We got up early, still stressing about all the trucks surrounding us. A quick cup of yogurt and we stepped outside to assess our situation. As if by magic, a path had opened up for us so that we could weasel our way through the parked cars and trucks and get into the gas station! We had disconnected Gus and Donna drove around the parking lot while I fueled up Nessie. She returned with an easy way out to the street, so $305 later we were outside Walmart and hooking up Gus for the days tow.

A few miles west of Midland we bailed off of I20 heading northwest through the heart of the Patch.  Officially known as the Permian Basin, the oil industry is booming as it was 30 years ago in the endless cycle of boom and bust. A truck driver I talked to this morning told me that Midland's population has increased by near a hundred thousand in the last 15 years, but the recent drop in world wide oil prices has everyone worried.

Through the towns of Andrews, Seminole, Denver City and Plains, the evidence of oil money is everywhere.  Pumping "jacks" by the thousands dot the countryside, and hundreds of businesses line the roads with dirt lots, metal building, lots of pickup trucks, and signs proclaiming expertise in "capping", "salt water disposal", "piping", and "diesel engine repair". The oil itself is precious, but the support industries are the lifeblood of the industry.

"Farms" of oil pumps dotted the countryside.

And periodically a refinery would pop up.

We turned west at Plains, Texas, and as we crossed the border into New Mexico the landscape changed dramatically. No longer did we see oil derricks, pumps, and trucks; now it was the infinite rangeland of the plains.

Two hundred and twelve miles after we left Midland, we followed US380 into Roswell, New Mexico. This is a somewhat frivolous side trip to see for myself a part of my father's history.  During and just after WWII, he was a member of the Army Air Corps, the forerunner of todays Air Force, and was stationed for a time at Roswell Army Air Field.  The original runways are still in use, and the airport  has the distinction of being an International Airport in the sense that any aircraft, including the Space Shuttle if it were still in use, could land here. Few flights pass through here, mostly puddle-jumpers to somewhere else, but the huge expanses of concrete hark back to a time when this was a vital part of our nations war effort.

The Army Air Field spanned the years 1941 to 1947. The name was changed then and became Walker Air Force Base from 1947 to 1967. Beginning in 1952, the Strategic Air Command flew B52's out of here in the Cold War defense effort.

In the distance, the original military barracks, long since refurbished, have been turned into apartments.

Who knows, perhaps my Dad stayed in one of those….?

On the way back to our "homestead", we stopped at the Sticker Bus to take a look.

Covered from top to bottom and front to back with custom stickers, the bus is a sight to behold! Most of the stickers are of the x-rated variety, but several were humorous to us diesel guys.

Of course there is one other reason to visit Roswell, and it revolves around this repurposed theater! Tomorrow we hope to have a close encounter…..