The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current, April 02, 1982, Image 22

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    8 Focus, The Battalion
Friday, April 2, 1982
The end of the road: a shack and windmill on Highway 6
near Reagan, Texas.
To the north ...
The first leg of the Great High
way 6 Odyssey is to the north, in
the direction of Waco and
It's raining, naturally. College
Station isn't the only place
where it rains.
The trip through downtown
Bryan is familiar — the banks,
seedy restaurants and car deal
ers lining Texas Avenue are of
little interest.
Already boredom has set in.
Cleaning the inside of the car
windows helps a little, but when
there's nothing to see, why
bother to see it clearly?
Soon the commercial region of
Bryan is past, and we're in the
nether regions of the town,
where dilapidated houses
slump in yards full of junked
cars, old dogs and weeds. It's
like Lewis and Clark, exploring
new areas.
What's out there?
Still not much. A few bosses
— maybe this is Bonanza.
The Rest-Ever Memorial Park
is on the right. The cemetery has
only plastic flowers by the
graves, no stones.
At 8.8 miles we rejoin the
bypass; 9.5 and we're in the
wilds of Texas. It looks like a
jungle. A sign says "Plant En
trance;" we didn't see any enter
ing, though.
The first metropolis along the
road is Benchley. The big attrac
tion here is Leon's Truck Stop.
It's still raining, and we're still
awake, so we pass by. We're an
xious to reach Heame, a reputed
Mafia hangout.
There's really no place for
them to hang, but maybe they
enjoy the peace and quiet.
Heame looks like an extended
truck stop — a town of gas sta
tions, car dealers and cafes with
names like Sidetrack, the Main
Cafe and Pitt Grill, and a sign
proclaiming "The cheapest way
to feed a cow is Lone Star Ferti
Then we're in the jungle
An unexpected oasis farther on down the road — Calvert.
Behind the crumbling storefronts are some of the most fascinat
ing antique pieces in the state. And just off Highway 6 are 37 blocks
of restored Victorian homes.
It's raining harder now, but the first shop we enter is warmed by
a wood stove and the smiles of the couple who run it.
Wiley and Ruby Kirk moved to Calvert from Kansas to open the
"We just wanted to quit punching a time clock and do some
thing fun," Mrs. Kirk says.
Their shop is full of small knick-knacks and larger pieces. They
show us an overgrown courtyard connecting several of the stores.
Grass is sprouting out through the brick patio and some of the
doors are crumbling, but Mrs. Kirk is fixing it up.
Further down the street, at the Boll Weevil, Sallie Tucker Ander
son has a shop full of all kinds of antiques. Most impressive are the
old wooden bars, but they're not for sale, she says, because they
are from the Calvert area.
And so on down the street, more beautiful articles from long
ago. We could have spent the entire day visiting with the friendly
antique dealers up and down the street, but the open road, and
deadline, were calling.
Photos by Diana Sultenfuss
Stories by Cathy Saathoff
On the road
Wiley Kirk is reflected in the mirror of an antique dresser
in the Ox-Cart in Calvert.
More grass and trees,!
houses. Dead tires awii|
litter the road.
We're keeping a closel
the odometer. Howniiidl
er to 50 miles? At 46 we™
ted to stop at Swick'sf
At last to big five-oti
beside a tree.
For interest's sake, w|
picture of a shack and*
up ahead, and go juslij
further to the town offe
With such a name, ta|
The return trip is i
even more so than thefi
In the middle of i
taxi passes by. Somelw
bie should get a goodfai
that, but where could I
In Heame, the
looks too good topassup]
it be the Dixie Diner Jim
fett sang about?
After overcoming fhel
of being the only peopi
restaurant not wearingi]
caps, we settle down toft
of meal you can't findintl
Station, the kind momft
Sunday afternoons.
Then it's back to A$
raining still.