We drove aimlessly for dozens of miles into the evening, as if the movement of the vehicles could conjure vorticity. It was over and I knew it.

"How far are we from I-10?" I asked.

Interstate 10  through Houston and Louisiana was the way home, I knew. Jeff knew this too, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him turn toward me. He knew what I was thinking.

THE END OF THE ROAD

Near a farm outside Goliad, Texas, we stopped and said our good-byes. Steve and Clint would ride back to Dallas with Eric. There was no reason for Jeff and I to make the eight hour drive just to turn south again for Florida. Leaving from this point would save an entire day, and meant I would have a day between arriving home and going back to work.  5100 miles on the back and legs and that was nice thought.  We talked for an hour, took pictures of the group and parted with much hesitation.

"I’m sorry we didn’t show you a Texas twister," Steve said to Jeff.  It was okay, Jeff said, we had a blast.