Amarillo, Texas is usually a drive through city. We spend the night, eat a meal and head for points further down the interstate. This trip we decide to stay a few nights. We select Fort Amarillo RV resort solely for its location. The roads in Amarillo are confusing with one way corridors that run parallel to the interstate and side roads that lose lanes and veer apart with little warning. So we think this easy to navigate location with just two turns (also in close proximity to fuel) makes sense.

The resort staff are friendly and check in is easy. But the sites are very tight. By the time we park and get set up, I understand what a sardine must feel like. Still, it feels good to be out of the rv and not driving. Our picnic table pushed against the privacy fence seems like a fine place to rest. It doesn’t last long.

Like a caged bird, I long to fly. So I wander around the campground. I find pickleball courts, a gift shop, a laundry, a pool, and a small garden area. At least it is a garden of sorts. There is a small water feature, rocks, and cacti. Where even the cacti won’t grow there are metal plants.

Since we are in Texas, I also see a fiberglass horse, 100s of American flags, and 1000’s of Texas flags. Just in case we forget where we are, every truck seems to be labeled with a Texas logo. I muse about why this happens so often in Texas compared to other states. I am so deep in thought that I almost step on a snake. It is dead, so I don’t have a heart attack.

My husband joins me to sit by the water feature and unwind from the long drive. Birds hop in and out of trees, singing their even songs. The sky slowly turns from a bright blue to a soft pink. I hum “Amarillo by sunset”. I hope George Straight is okay with the adjustment. It seems somehow appropriate as the sun goes down in the panhandle.