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the guy running at it!” I swung the
Mustang to the shoulder and he grabbed
the camera and lit out inhot pursuit, to the
annoyance of the ranchers scrambling in
vain to catch the llama. A er a few shots,
he returned. “Sometimes in life,” he said
philosophically, indicating the ranchers,
“you go a grant that a llama’s gonna run
into the middle of the road, and when he
does, you’ve just go a let him run until
he’s done.”
The same could be said of our ride for
the weekend, a sterling-gray 2013 Ford
Mustang GT fresh off the test track, and
maybe help explain why what began as
a four-hour road
trip turned into
a two-tank, nine-
hour odyssey.
We had started
the day in Austin,
at Torchy’s Tacos,
a food truck on
South First Street,
not far from the
river. A er stuffing
ourselves to the
point of collapse
wi th fantas t i c
fried chicken tacos
—tacos for breakfast beingone of the great
advances of civilization—we rounded up
the Mustang and hit Highway 71 toward
Fredericksburg.
Before going any further, though, aword
on the car: At a timewhen automobiles are
becoming increasingly concerned with
our well-being—always beeping, flash-
ing, warning, worrying—the Mustang is
refreshingly stoic. It’s essentially a giant
hunk of metal, weighing in at nearly 2
tons. It’s equipped with a V-8 capable of
420 hp and a wombat howl that will keep
you wondering if you have a gang of Hells
Angels bringingup the rear. Inside, there’s a
cupholder. Amirror. Astereo.Mappockets.
Inotherwords, pampering is not the point.
Driving is the point. And driving this car is
stupidly fun.
So drive we did. Route 71 West out of
Austinbelies thenotion, heldby theuniniti-
ated, that Texas is all lowscrub and big sky.
The road takes you through dramatic ter-
rain, past ostentatious stoneand ironranch
gates and between pools of bluebells (even
going at a good clip, you can smell them)
gathered amid the gentle green hills. We
saw half a dozen families that had pulled
over to just sit in the fields of wildflowers.
A er turning onto Route 16 at Llano, we
arrived in Fredericksburg. German immi-
grants founded the place in the mid-19th
century, and it retains some of its historical
flavor. While a good deal of the main strip
is now geared toward tourists, signs of the
olddays include amuseumhonoringAdm.
Chester Nimitz, who was born here, and
two lively beer halls.We ducked into one of
the la er, the Fredericksburg Brewing Co.,
to escape theheat, andcalledupa couple of
pints of the fine Peacepipe Pale Ale.
Route 16 heads southwest from
there, into harsher but no less beautiful
country. PastKerrville, the landscape turns
craggy and the road takes on the contours
of a roller coaster, all sharp climbs, steep
drops and hairpin turns. The Mustang’s
he and power might not have been ideal
for this, but theymade for some stomach-
churning fun.
After the llama episode, we drove
through Medina, a welcoming cluster of
businesses surrounded by orchards and
ranches, and into tiny Bandera, the self-
proclaimed “Cowboy Capital of theWorld”
and site ofmany a rodeo. Following a quick
snack, we wheeled onto Route 46 toward
Gruene, en route to Gruene Hall, Texas’
longest-running dance hall. At least, that
was the plan until we discovered
FREE RANGE
From left,
Bandera, Texas,
the “Cowboy
Capital of the
World”; an
escaped llama
leads ranchers
on a merry chase
in Hill Country
BOARDING PASS
Headed for Hill Coun-
try? Let United take
you there with nonstop
service to Austin from
its hubs in Denver,
Chicago, New York/
Newark, Los Angeles,
San Francisco, Houston
andWashington, D.C.
Go to united.com to see
flight schedules and
book your trip.
30
JULY 2012
•
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ROADTRIP
At Kreuz Market, we grossly overindulged in
beef brisket and jalapeño-cheddar sausages
(to be eaten with your hands, of course).