Donnerwetter! You think driving across Texas is like a Sunday stroll to the Biergarten? Ha! Put that thought back in the cooler next to your Coors, ‘cause once you hit these Lone Star highways, you’ll find out real quick: this state ain’t just big, it’s monstrous – like Bavaria after it ate three pretzels too many and refused to stop growing.

Texas Size – Bigger Than Your Patience

Listen, Texas is 268,000 square miles. You could fit my little Bavaria inside about 20 times and still have room left for half of Austria. That means when some good ol’ boy in a cowboy hat says, “It’s just a short drive, drei Stunden only,” you better pack snacks, gas up the truck, and maybe bring a pillow. A Texan’s short drive is what a European calls a vacation. Interstate 10? Ja, that one stretches about 880 miles across the state. That’s longer than Germany from Munich to Hamburg with enough road left to circle back for Schnitzel.

Endless Asphalt – Like Lederhosn Straps That Never End

Take I-35 – Dallas down to San Antonio. You’ll think you’re making progress, then you see the sign still says “Austin 80 miles.” Ach du lieber! Again! Or head west and hit I-20, where you’ll drive four hours staring at mesquite trees and oil pumps that look like nodding drunks at an Oktoberfest tent. Und still… you’re in Texas.

And don’t even ask about El Paso to Houston unless you enjoy full-day marathons in one car seat. Nine, ten, eleven hours – give or take how often you stop to pee or argue over what station the radio should be on.

Road Trip Culture – Survival Bavarian-Texan Style

On these long hauls, the highway itself becomes culture. You learn the sacred shrines of the road:

Gas stations: Massive, glowing roadside temples where half the parking lot is lifted trucks and the other half is RVs with kids screaming for more gummy bears.

Motels: Always with flickering neon signs promising “FREE WIFI” and “COLOR TV,” as if it’s still 1979. But hey, that ice machine is your best friend when the Texas sun tries to fry your Gehirn.

Diners: Where coffee tastes like burnt salvation and pancakes are as big as steering wheels. That’s road trip love right there.

Buc-ee’s: Ach ja, the promised land! It’s more than a gas station. It’s a Texas pilgrimage site, with brisket sandwiches, restrooms that are cleaner than my Oma’s kitchen, and enough snacks to fill a cattle trailer. Buc-ee’s isn’t optional. It’s mandatory.

Roadside oddities: Giant statues of cowboys, alien museums out in Roswell’s cousin-towns, or random painted Cadillacs buried in the earth. Texans collect weirdness along highways like we Bavarians collect beer steins.

Brewkraut’s Box:

What’s the deal: Texas highways show you just how zu groß this state really is. Travel 6 hours, still same state.

What’s nonsense: Calling 3 hours a “quick drive.” Nein danke, that’s a day trip in most of the world!

Prost-finale: In Texas, measure distance in brisket sandwiches, not miles. It makes more sense.

Outsiders vs. Texans – Who’s Crazy?

Bring a friend from Europe, California, or New York, and watch their eyes pop when you say Dallas to Houston is “not too far.” They think a two-hour drive is some kind of sabbatical. Texans shrug, mutter “piece of cake,” and hit the gas for six hours just to watch football at Grandma’s house.

Texans have endurance. They see road trips not as Fahrerei but as a way of life. Long stretches of asphalt, country music singing out of crackly radios, sunsets that bleed across the sky in colors you didn’t even know existed. It’s brutal, but it’s beautiful. Like watching Bayern Munich play in the Texas heat – you admire it, but you shake your head at the madness.

Survival Tips From Brewkraut

Want to survive the endless Texan road? Here’s my advice:

• Always keep water and beef jerky stocked. Don’t ask questions. Just do it.
• Never underestimate Buc-ee’s. Stop every time, even if your tank is half full. You’ll regret passing by.
• Schedule naps if you’re crossing the desert stretches. A tired driver in West Texas is as useful as a lederhosn in a sandstorm.
• Have patience. These roads don’t end fast, but neither does the sky. That’s the reward… ein bisschen Freiheit.

The Punchline of Asphalt

So ja, Texas highways are endless, like a bratwurst that refuses to fit on your bun. But that’s the Texan charm – out here, the road is as much home as the ranch house or the BBQ pit. Endless? Jawoll. But once you embrace it, you realize: some journeys aren’t about getting there schnell… they’re about enjoying the ride with good tunes, greasy fries, and a horizon that never quits.

And remember this, Freund: if someone in Texas tells you it’s a short drive, cancel your dinner plans. You’re not eating until morgen.