Trucks and barbecue.

"I like y'all accent," the woman at the window said to Ali. She gave us the ticket for our order and waved us toward the pickup spot.
"I like your earrings," I wanted to say. They were shaped like Longhorns, the mascot of the University of Texas. But there was a long line of people behind us, waiting for their lunch.

You would have lined up too if you could smell it

Lunch in Beaumont was our second stop that day. Austin was behind us before the sun had crested the horizon. Our Nissan Versa struggled and strained to reach the speed limit of the Texan highways (between 60 and 75 mph) but once it got there it ticked over pretty nicely.

Highway photo

Not that you would know it as the constant flow of trucks and SUVs overtook us, hurrying on their way to wherever Texans are always speeding to get to. Pretty soon the houses melted away into fields and we were out in Texas proper.

That big sky they're always talking about is a real thing; with no hills or features to break the view, the horizon runs in a clear line the whole way around. Every way you look there's clear sky.

An extra lane joined the highway, and another. Support roads and on ramps were tributaries which fed more traffic into our flow. Explorers on a great river, we knew all that water had to be going to an ocean somewhere. The ocean was Houston.

Not enough highways in your life? Come to Houston!

Just yesterday we met a couple from Oklahoma who told us they have to drive through Houston once a year to get to Galveston. They said that it doesn't matter when you go through, what day or night, the traffic is always bad in Houston.

We were in town long enough to stop and buy some comfy clothes from a Sports Authority. Then we threw ourselves back into the current of the traffic, looking for away across and toward our next stop in Beaumont.

And lunch. (Watch out for the autoplay on that link)

Our Versa crunched along the gravel and every person in line turned to watch us approach. This was not, we realised, a regular tourist spot.

The looks were not hostile, just curious, and might have been as much about the car as its occupants. It certainly looked out of place between the Rams and F150s, a pony among the destriers.

We ordered ribs and beef combo and a "big ol' baked potato."

That's the potato on the left.

I'm not going to mess around. It might be, to this day, the best thing I have ever eaten.

We sat on the porch and ate with the glee of hungry people who have been given good food and no rules. We ate with our hands and with our fork. We traded dishes and traded again. Little was said.

Once we were done (not finished; no way would could have eaten that potato) we found the source of the smell. The smoke-house was out back, its aroma democratically spread throughout Beaumont, calling the people for links plus ribs cooked in delicious carcinogens.

God bless America.

In retrospect anywhere we went after that was going to be a disappointment. We crossed the border into Louisiana and were struck by the change in scenery. Louisiana is made of swamps and steel. The highway ran through miles of green punctuated by oil refineries.

At Lake Charles

It was cold in Lake Charles when we stopped for photos. We were cold in the photos.

Me being cold in a photo

With little to keep us there we hurried on to Lafayette. Part of the Acadian region and the center of Cajun Louisiana, Lafayette seemed like a good place to stop over on our elongated trip to New Orleans.

Across the intersection from our hotel was a little bar that we figured was worth a shot. We had our first gumbo, drank delicious beers and met some of the nicest people. The hospitality was what really took us by surprise. The staff were nice, people at the bar struck up conversation. A couple sitting next to us had just returned from New Orleans and gave us a list of things to do while we were in the city.

The gumbo and the bar were fantastic but for me the real take away was discovering that Louisiana has a thriving craft-beer industry. I had expected to switch out of beer-tasting mode when we crossed the state border.

Happy to be wrong.