Texas is essentially three different countries, two time zones, and a barbecue obsession masquerading as a single US state. It is a place where "humidity" is a solid object you must physically push out of your way to walk outside, and "winter" is a single Tuesday afternoon in February. The local culture dictates that everything must be larger than necessary, including the highway speed limits, the pickup trucks that require a step stool to climb into, and the gas stations like Buc-ee's, which are less like rest stops and more like pristine, beaver-themed shopping malls where you can buy a hunting rifle, a deer feeder, and three pounds of homemade fudge at 3:00 AM.

Driving across the state is a psychological test of endurance. You can drive for eight hours at eighty miles an hour and still just be in Texas, staring at an endless horizon of mesquite trees and oil rigs while your GPS repeatedly tells you to "continue straight for 300 miles." The weather is similarly unhinged, capable of delivering a sunstroke-inducing heatwave, a golf-ball-sized hail storm, and a tornado warning all within the same lunch hour. Despite the chaotic climate and the fact that the state flower is basically a very aggressive weed, the locals possess a fierce, unshakeable pride, firmly believing that any problem in life can be solved by adding more brisket, sweet tea, or a hearty "Howdy" to the situation.