h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I live in Dallas and have driven south on I-35 once before to Houston. I don't recall ever coming across a Carl's Corner. I've also driven south many times to Waxahachie, again on I-35. Granted that's not Waco. Is this place south of Waxahachie?

Being relatively close to this place, it might be neat to drive down there some day soon. About how long would it take for me to drive down there and back? Might be an enlightening day trip.

Well, it's been 25 weeks and no one would answer my question, so eventually I had an opportunity to answer the question for myself.

It was close to midnight on a Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, depending on how you look at it. I'd just spent the first part of the week in Austin at the South by Southwest Conference 2000. Driving home was going to be a straight shot up I-35 and I planned to make no stops, but after over 100 miles of driving, I was out of coffee and about to pass out at the wheel.

Then I saw it. Like a beacon in the night. Like a lighthouse of distress in the fog. "Carl's Corner - Next Right." And when I saw that, I thought of this h2g2 entry, which I hadn't looked at in almost seven months. I thought of the description of scantily clad women helping cowboy truckers take their shoes off and serve them cool refreshments. I figured I could use a break after driving for so long staring at the dotted white line. A few moments later, I was over the bridge across the highway and pulling into the parking lot of the infamous Carl's Corner.

Carl's Corner is most probably any time of the day or night surrounded by scores of impressive eighteen wheelers coughing and looming in the distance. Some with their trailer lights on. Others silent as a tomb. Most hum with the sound of air conditioners or heaters in their cabs, with truck drivers curled up inside dreaming their dreamy little dreamy dreams. If you have ever read Stephen King's short story "Trucks" about semi-trucks which come to life after a radioactive comet crosses paths with the world, they have probably imagined what Carl's Corner looks like at night.

I parked my car, walked across a flat and almost desolate patch of grey concrete towards this single structure in the center of it all. I passed some dusty gas kiosks and went inside.

At the counter was a formidable looking man easily two feet shorter than me who I immediately knew could kick my ass by just looking at me the wrong way. He wore a baseball cap, shortcut hair, glasses, jeans and a tshirt. The man took one look at my long ponytail and huffed to himself, before turning around and returning to his newspaper.

"I crap bigger'n you," echoed in my head.

There was one other person in the room that I noticed, sitting at a table watching a television hanging in the corner of the room. The smell of the place seemed thick with dust and mildew and stale sweat and alcohol and a host of other things that I couldn't place.

And coffee. I could smell the coffee.

Still a little blurry-eyed, I made my way across the store towards the coffee counter, a little indentation in the corner, sufficiently supplied with just enough coffee crap and not too much more. The entire place had "no nonsense" written all over it. The place is functional, and just comfortable enough for one to want to spend a little time there but not so comfortable you'd want to stay. It's functional, but appearances and 'interior decorating' are definitely not interests of Carl's.

The place could use a woman's touch, let's put it that way.

After pouring my coffee I went back and sheepishly greeted the man manning the counter. He looked away from his newspaper and made his way to the cash register. I noticed that behind the counter he looked even more imposing, because the employee's area was all on a raised dias. This would always theoretically keep the visitor at a disadvantage to the employee.

"Boy it sure is neat to finally be at Carl's Corner," I was purposefully sounding like a geek in hopes of getting the guy to say something. I mean it was pretty obvious he considered me just a little less important than some chewing gum he'd happen to notice on the bottom of his shoe.

"Howzzat?"

"Well last year I read about this place on the Internet, but this is the first chance I had to be here."

"Oh." He told me how much it was and I gave him some cash. He went to make the change.

"Did you know this place is mentioned in h2g2.com? On the Internet?" I asked.

"Ah dunno anythin bout that. Carl maghts know. Er maybee his son."

"His son?"

"Yeah, 'is son usedtah be inta cumpyooters. Kyle wuz his name."

"Was?"

"He passt away.. oh ahlmost a year uhgo, naw. Maybee less."

"So maybe his son was the one to post the message about this place here?"

The man shrugged and shook his head, "Ah dunno."

"What was his name?"

"Kay Wha Ell Eee," he said, making me feel like an idiot.

Just in regards to my growing anxiety over the thought, I found myself saying, "That's strange."

"Yeah it iz."

I thanked him and made my exit. As I returned to my car the stocky man's words coupled with the enfolding darkness suddenly left me with a disturbing and curious sense of awe. Perhaps a fearful respect for this elusive Trucker's Brigadoon: the place felt haunted. Eerie. I suddenly felt very humbled; a very small creature in a very large world, all alone in an environment where only the most hardy and steadfast of men commonly dwell. Very out of place and out of my element, I imagined that perhaps Carl's son Kyle were a benevolent ghost who helped protect computer geeks and net freaks who entered this Trucker Domain in the flesh.

Or maybe the guy in there was pulling my leg. In any case, I locked myself inside the car, sipped my coffee as I steered out of there with one hand, and didn't look back.

It would be nice to return to Carl's Corner. However, I think during the daylight would be ideal, and preferably not alone.

By the way, the drive between Dallas and Austin is roughly two hundred miles. At the speed limit (or maybe occasionally a little over it) it will take the average driver a little over three hours to traverse the flat prairieland of North Texas to reach the hill country of the Lone Star state's Capitol city.

Waco is almost the halfway point. Waxahachie is almost an hour outside of Dallas, and feels like making the homestretch on the return trip from Austin. I breathed a sigh of relief when I made it to Waxahachie. Having in previous springs traversed the Dallas to Waxahachie trip many a time, that distance was a cakewalk compared to what I had just experienced.

Carl's Corner lies somewhere between Waco and Waxahachie, in a mysterious No Man's Land of two or three square miles. Other than the truck stop itself, and one or two dilapidated buildings left to decline and disrepair, it's all trees and flatland as far as the eye can see.

Carl's Corner is approximately thirty minutes south of Waxahachie, thirty five minutes north of Waco, and about an hour and a half away from either Dallas or Austin.

And I saw no skimpy dressed babes with cleavage helping tired truckers take their boots off. Maybe the good looking women only work during business hours..

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