On our recent drive from Dallas to Laguna Seca and back, we found two really good twisty roads. Maybe you locals know about them already, but they're worth mentioning.

First, near paths well travelled, there's Highway 198 running east-west between I-5 and Hwy 101 in central California. About 60 miles of glorious bulging green hills and valleys, some altitude change up and over a low pass, and a river runs through it. My dad and I ran it on a Friday late afternoon, and my wife and I on the return trip on a Wednesday morning, and there was very little traffic, with ample passing zones, decent sight lines for much of it, although plenty of blind spots as well. Best kind of road - visually engaging for the passenger, viscerally engaging for the driver.

To judge by the severe tone of the signage on California roads these days, CHP will probably soon be buying shoulder-launched missiles to eliminate pesky "speeders" with finality. But that would mean they couldn't collect fines. Anyway, we saw no evidence of unreasonable enforcement on either transit of this fine piece of Golden State blacktop.

Now for the path definitely less travelled:

In the southern corner of West Texas (yes, the "W" is capitalized; this part of the state has an even more unique culture than the rest - Carroll Shelby is from West Texas), is a small town called Ft. Davis, in the Davis Mountains. Now you have to take the word "mountains" with a dash of salt because they would be hills in any truly wrinkled state. But Ft. Davis claims to be the highest town in all of Texas, at 5200 feet. Several things make this little town kind of cool.

First of all, at this altitude, it is in fact cool when the rest of Texas is sweltering hot.

Second, it has a very old hotel, called the Hotel Limpia (after the "clear and clean" creek appreciated by the settling Mexicans) that first opened in the 1880s. Staying in the restored old pile is a hoot. It also has a decent restaurant and bar upstairs which is the only public place that serves alcohol in all of Jeff Davis County, which is otherwise "dry" as we quaintly still say in Texas.

Third, on Tuesday nights, the U of T opens it's adjacent McDonald Observatory to a public "star party". You might find 10 or 100 people have dropped in to queue up in the dark and one-by-one peer out into the dazzling cosmos through a half-dozen big telescopes. University and other volunteers stand in eerie pools of red light at the base of each scope and speak informatively about what you are seeing. Chilly fun.

But fourth, and why we are here, is Highway 118 going 70 miles from I-10 southeast up into Ft. Davis, and Highway 17 coming north 55 miles from Ft. Davis down to I-10 (or I-20 in another 30 miles). I've run this three times now, and you might see two or three cars going either direction.

At the bottom of either highway, you start on the good old Texas Permian Basin flatlands. But soon you are in low, roller coaster hills posted at 75mph with plenty of long distance visibility. Both roads are very well maintained and marked, and speeds of 100mph to 115mph are comfortable for twenty miles of gentle troughs and crests. As you ascend, the terrain changes from scrub to oak and pecan trees, and the hillsides get that velvety brown texture of northern California in the winter, but combined with the red rock bulges and crevasses of Arizona or New Mexico. Very nice.

Then - this is Hwy 118 - the road starts to get steeper, the curves tighter and the straights shorter as it laces up the mountainside, focusing your attention more and more narrowly. You exercise your shifting skills more frequently, and your rhythm adjusts accordingly. Third gear does well in this section, with some turns in second. Pay attention to the livestock signs as you often lose your sight line. Up the mountain you go.

Suddenly, you are on a plateau and speeding up a long, rising straight; actually you have crested one of the smaller peaks and you are now racing along the spine of this little range, with the domes of the observatory on a peak above you, white as mushrooms. Ninety or 100mph and then back into the trees for more loop-de-loos and more climbing, and then back out onto the next spine - hey, you're heading away from the domes now! - up to speed and then back into curves and climbing. This is pretty damn fun!

Much too soon, perhaps another 20 miles later, you've passed the observatory and are going on into town. Forty-five mph, then 35, then 25 and then 20, because Ft. Davis is a small town, because you will be the only sports car there, because you may end up having dinner at the same place the sheriff is celebrating his 90 year old mother's birthday, and because the Hotel Limpia is on the main square across from the city hall/courthouse/jail. The Limpia is cheap, clean and charming, and breakfast the next morning at the "drugstore" across the street is the perfect starter for the trip back down Hwy 17 to the north and civilization, or to the south into Big Bend country where there are literally hundreds of miles of excellent, empty two-lane highways to explore. Go in the spring, fall or, if it's clear as it was these last two weeks, the winter. Top down, bracing chill, heaters pointed at your hands, cold dense air feeding your VTEC.

As my dad, who's from California, said after the above run: "California may have more perfect beautiful roads, but in Texas, they let you drive!" Note to Californians - there's a reason Texas knocked NY out of second place to California as the most populous state, and it ain't the sushi (although you can find decent sushi in Texas if you look). Think about a state with 64% more area and 33% fewer people, and where they still assume the right way is to let people pay for the consequences of their own stupidity. Like California in the old days. That means law enforcement in the open country is more likely (if you are civil) to give you a nod than a ticket, and most of the signs still tell you what to expect, not what you should do. Not saying Texas is better, because California is in many ways Nirvana, just saying you might come and form your own opinion.

Anyway, enough about roads for tonight. Have a great evening!

Paul

 

i once go through HW198 as well. i was going to monterey bay for sea otter classic (cycling people will know what i am talking about) from southern CA. it was really kind of late at night, something like 9 or 10pm, totally darkness everywhere. no lights but moon light and my head lights. no traffic, almost. it was fun. but of course, kind of dangerous, cause if anything happens, probably nobody will find out until the next morning or something? (knock woods, everything was smooth )

 

If you happen to find yourself in the northwestern parts of California, I'd recommend trying out highway 36 between I-5 and 101. Very twisty and very nice for a car like the S2000. I was there around New Years, and wishing I was in my car (was driving a civic at the time ) Judging from the map, any of those cross-cascade roads should be fun