F-TYPE Outside (right,

F-TYPE Outside (right, bottom left) and inside San Antonio’s Hotel Emma built in the city’s old Pearl Brewery, named after Emma Koehler who ran it from 1914 FM1826. You can’t drive by it and not stop in—at least, not your first time. Lying about having eaten at the Salt Lick is discouraged. So you pull into a dusty parking lot rife with pickup trucks and tall-heeled women and let your nose guide you toward a hickory-tinged blast to the nose and mouth. It’s an olfactory explosion of cow and pig parts, lovingly simmered, stewed, or roasted to perfection. The atmosphere rivals the best days of summer camp, with picnic tables placed indoors and table service as reliable as you’d expect from a 16-year-old preoccupied with nothing in particular. The food however is to blog or brag about. Here, the accents come back, as do the hats and the no-nonsense disposition. It doesn’t matter if you’ve eaten one, two, or perhaps three meals already. A chopped brisket sandwich and a heap of sour pickles and raw onions goes best with a tall, plastic cup of iced tea. Cash only. Your wallet will be lighter, but not light enough to offset the orgiastic intake of meat. At first glance pulling in to San Antonio there’s nothing there. It’s a ghost town. The streets are in disrepair. Buildings appear abandoned. The occasional barbecue joint sits adjacent to an empty parking lot. Brand-new condo buildings sitting alone. You want the full tourist experience? Drive downtown, park a few blocks from the Alamo, and take a walking tour. To experience what San Antonio really has to offer, drive to Southtown, where colourful buildings more reminiscent of Savannah or Charleston brighten up a neighbourhood in decline. Or take a stroll through the Pearl neighbourhood, named for the eponymous brewery that was once its focal point. At the centre of the neighbourhood revitalisation is the Hotel Emma, a converted brewery built in 1894 that proves that Texas and luxury aren’t disparate concepts. Do the Riverwalk if the weather isn’t humid beyond belief. Eat some queso, because you have to, and drink a beer made from the local water. A hundred miles from Houston. The drive is nearly complete. At this point, the F-TYPE SVR’s odometer is reading hundreds of miles higher than expected. Everyone says it’s Texas, after all! It’s a reflex: everything is bigger in Texas. That’s the refrain. The terrain grows flatter and wider as the city skyline suddenly appears. Any discussion of Texas that does not mention Houston is incomplete. You can hastily dismiss Houston as an oil magnate’s megalopolis come to life, or really take a look at it. Suffer through the traffic and wade your way in. Your wallet will be lighter, but not enough to offset the orgiastic intake of meat The city’s character is disjunctive and diglossic. Downtown, it’s laid out in the European tradition, replete with traffic circles, beautifully maintained public gardens, and a Metro. Its attitude toward pedestrians, however, is less friendly: motorists seem to have brazen contempt for anyone trying to crosswalk. The Galleria, a must-see of all the tourist guidebooks, is a pass if you’ve ever seen an indoor mall. Spend more time in the museum district, or downtown, and get a sense of why people come to Houston and stay for the oppressive climate. You’ll learn a lot by staring at Houston’s skyline at sunset, wondering why this isn’t the Texas seat of power, but you come to respect Texas’ reverence for its past. Saying goodbye is hard once you’ve come to understand a place. Not that I understand Texas any more than I did 96 hours earlier, but at least I’ve seen some more of it. It’s also more difficult than anticipated to part with the F-TYPE SVR, which indulged my fantasy to take a road trip in a supercar. It’s the perfect metaphor for the perfect Texas road trip vehicle: an abstruse but irresistible powerhouse. I reflect a bit on the purpose of the trip. It wasn’t to change my mind about what Texas is, but to shed light on a part of the country usually dismissed as avoidable. To understand what America means today, you must visit Texas. You don’t have to agree with it, and you certainly don’t have to scramble to fill out forms to change your residence. Undoubtedly, you’ll see more of Texas in a short time if you choose to fly over it, but don’t be intimidated. Pick a great car and a few days, and take it slow. 74 THE JAGUAR

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