A short trip along US 3 Double 7

After weeks of dealing with ice, deadlines and the flu, it was time to escape the confines of the apartment and do a little bit of exploring. US 377 north bound was the destination. The drive began with a trip along US 380 for a few miles where a clutter of SUV's and Ford F-250's roared passed me at the speed of sound. The nerves were relaxed while the mind wandered off onto the bridge of Del Shannon's "Runaway." For a spell US 380 and 377 runs concurrently until a few miles east of the intersection with Loop 288. In danger of missing the exit, the truck rapidly veered to the right hand lane before gliding a top of 380. 377 then became the focal point. Stopping to take a picture was not much of an option for a few miles as my target was the Oklahoma/Texas line. The 45 miles was smooth and with little traffic and few red lights, a roadie's dream. Sonic's, Mobil's, railroad tracks and local establishments decorated the frontage road. The Carpenter's "Goodbye to Love" began to fade as I began a steep descent.

Lake Texoma and the majestic portal into Oklahoma was in full stream.

The Sooner State welcomed me back and the options became limitless, a dangerous potion for a road-a-holic. Nonetheless, a wait-and-see approach was the perfect remedy.

A few minutes later I reached a crossroads...

and a decision was made, keep on truckin.

I began to recall a prior trip where I came back along 377 from Stroud, a few hours to the north. As I crept north I remembered the words of Texas Country and Western singer Johnny Bush, "No two journey's end the same." Would I attempt to fully recapture that experience? I reached Madill, where I battled roundabouts and a plethora of local traffic. Nonetheless, I found a couple of interesting edifices.

Currently a feed store.

Marshall County Courthouse. At this juncture it was time to seek a bridge that I crossed over a year ago. Winding roads, patches of dry, crusty dirt decorated the asphalt until I found the lost ark, the Washita River Bridge just outside Tishomingo, OK. The door shuts, tennis shoes scrapped blades of grass that sounded like hands playing with Reynolds Wrap. Alas!

However, I attempted to get creative with the shots and as I climbed along the foundation of the tress bridge, bam.

The forehead greeted a piece of the bridge and thoughts of unkind verbs and "OUCHHH" briefly consumed me. Moments pass and I got back into the truck. Thoughts of continuing up north, perhaps back to Stroud for some pie at the Rock Café, receded as the head ache began to intensify.

Forty minutes later, I was back in the Lone Star State.

Seconds after crossing the lake, the stomach began to growl. After 20 minutes, I reached Whitesboro, which is 40 miles north of Denton, made a right onto Business 377 where I encountered a piece of local history,

before steering left onto Texas 56. The truck parked and feet slowly gravitated towards the building where 1950s music was blasting along the streets of Whitesboro. The door opens. Black and white checker board tile floors and the sizzling sounds of the stove decorate the diner. After ordering a plain and dry burger with French fries, it was time to give in to the beat and relax.