1.Death of an Old Dream Birth of New One and Doomed Empires

Looking back on it I find it amazing.  It was 4years of my life spent in search of the perfect bean, in search of the perfect brew, in search of the America our folks once knew. The darn café barely broke even.  It made at best modest profits.   The kicker was  each time I set foot there well I could not tell what was going to go on next. It was an opportunity to relearn forgotten skills and to mature in the land of limestone, cedar and oak. It was a hospital to mend shattered hearts.  It was a classroom learn about God. My time in the café was 4 year reeducation in basic stick and rudder living. It was learning to ride the cutting edge by looking deep into the past. It was a trip into the heart of the western myth.  The cafe was a place to solve the riddle of the west.  It was beneficial 4 year vacation. For once in my life I can honestly say in regards to that time period no regrets are had. Bob Seger said it best"Sometimes at night I see their faces I feel the traces they've left on my soul these are the memories that make me a wealthy man." The ride often was rocky and pain frequently was an element but hey nothing worthwhile has ever come easily.

It started out as just standard class time killing my senior year in high school. We had big dreams and were not afraid to pursue them. Justin hearing the idea looked intrigued.  He had a big nose his hair blond curly pulled back in a pony tail.  His glasses wire framed added a stout stern look to his face.  We had been debating for the last couple of years God,Christ and the like. He was the son of Methodist and a Jewish mother. He had recently become very anti-political correct and we had found one realm of agreement we both believed that gun control meant hitting you intended target and the ban on assault weapons was itself an assault on individual freedom. I first knew him as an atheist but he soon discovered he did not have the faith to be one. Matt our cohort was the voice of raving reasonless passion liked the idea even though he wondered how I would take all the cigarette smoke and wondered if there were enough romantics to keep the place in business. Matt and I had several disagreements in our friendship his dark hair accentuated the fact that his blue eyes could literally burn with emotions set into his elongated face. I was actually quite glad when be got kicked out drama competitions for showing a full moon of his bare behind out of one Denton Independent School District's school over Lake Lewisville. I told him that to his face and our friendship did not suffer. I was so un preppy and being a rebel myself we got along great. He wondered how the rednecks and hippies would get along without killing each other. I replied cockily that Willie ,Wylie and Waylon solved that problem back in the seventies. Out of the hall emerged a faint snicker from history Teacher and ad hoc English professor for UNT. The halls had been quiet and he as re rounded the corner he caught the tail end of the conversation. We bantered back and fourth enjoying each other's company knowing that our friendships were doomed for freedom to go after our dreams also meant the end of our friendships. The flame was bright brighter now that its doom was inevitable. The café would go on an odd combination, a combination of cappuccino and beef ribs. That odd combination would prove possible just as our wild dreams of that time period said it would. I was going to Schreiner College in Kerrville. The Texas Hill Country was as close to a home I had been given. Three years in Dallas had worn on me I was still very much a small town boy. I had spent the last 2 years of my life trying to build the perfect beast of a school spurned on by the ghosts of town that had ruined too many lives while dodging arguments with the folks. I had adapted to the big city life and I hated myself for adapting. I had gone through the exact same time warp New Braunfels did that spun what was later to be known as Six Pence. I was looking forward getting out of Dodge. I had been in the front lines of the culture war and everything I treasured was being written into the history books and what replaced it was great but the loss was still there. I had become the anachronism that cursed where I had come from.  I had told an old man whom I loved in verse to ride his faithful mount old rattles and leave this world.  His belief in traditions that had gotten perverted fueled too much pain and his soul was too noble to see the darkness that was left of the world he insisted still existed.  This was economic class so we discussed such place's viability.  .The café would be on the border of civilization before the space of west Texas. The café was just beyond the border of sprawl barely within the reach of San Antonio and Austin based yuppies.  This would supply the cappuccino fix so far from the heart of civilization the last outpost for gourmet coffee before El Paso that is if one had the patience to wander over twenty miles off interstate ten. This coffee house would be a place where people traveling the backroads looking for Americana could make themselves at home.   The place would be perched percariously: too high brow run the locals off, too common no coffee crown. I decided that an 1800ft-strip length would keep Mooney's and Bonanza's out while providing a hang out for people who flew for the fun of flight. I was going for the Piper Cub crowd. It would be a zoo where both groups: the intellectuals and locals observed each other and dared to mingle. We knew that place would barely make money just as long as it broke even that is what I wanted.

I got home that day and I was surprised to find a letter in the mail from some friends of my sister enclosed with a $10,000,000.00 dollar check saying about how her mom had been intrigued by my respect and love for the dying small town America. She died and wanted me to use the money to explore it. The Backroads Buzzard café was born.