Dear readers,
Wow was I ever surprised when I arrived at Giant FM last Tuesday after the three-day Labor Day weekend. Johnny McCrory puts the Shelby County Post’s columnists weekly writing assignments under magnets on the refrigerator in the break room. I removed the envelope from under the “Kris” magnet.
I was momentarily distracted by a box of donuts someone had brought. Halfway through my donut, I opened the envelope and read my writing assignment. I was expecting something like “write a column about the autumn events you and Jack Yeend are planning at “The Helbing,” or maybe, “check out the most recent Elvis sighting in Walkerville.”
Instead, it was a travel assignment. Johnny was sending me to Buc-ee’s. I wondered if maybe the envelope somehow got under the wrong magnet. After all, Carol McDaniel is the Post’s travel columnist. It occurred to me that maybe Jeff Brown switched Carol’s writing assignment with mine as a prank.
Legitimate assignment, mistake, or prank, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t taking a chance of losing this plum assignment. I left my half-eaten donut behind and quickly headed out the door for Buc-ee’s.
I called my wife Sandy and told her to pack an overnight bag. I left our destination as a surprise. If I told her our road trip was to Buc-ee’s, she might not have gotten in the car.
Buc-ee’s, for you readers who aren’t tuned into the latest fads, is a gas station. It is a very big gas station. Buc-ee’s is to gas stations what Jungle Jim’s is to the corner grocery. Buc-ee’s is Stuckey’s 2.0 or more accurately Stuckey’s overdosed on steroids. Everything is bigger at Buc-ee’s, even the pecan logs.
Like Stuckey’s, kudzu, and roadside boiled peanuts, Buc-ee’s began in the south. I have talked to people who have visited Buc-ee’s. All came away with a very strong opinion of the experience. They fall into one of two distinct camps.
- Buc-ee’s is an oasis for the road weary traveler. A veritable one-stop Shangri-La where every need of the motoring public is met. The traveler leaves with smile as big as Buc-ee’s, the mischievous beaver mascot’s grin.
Or
- Buc-ee’s is a Rebel scam designed to relieve vacationing Yankees of their hard-earned dollars when on their way to real southern tourist destinations like “Rock City” or “Ruby Falls.” Road weary, the northern tourists are hypnotized by the mere size of the place and leave with a trunk full of overpriced souvenirs. If you have ever wondered what Mr. Haney did with the money from selling that worthless farm near Hooterville to Oliver Wendell Douglas, wonder no more. He created Buc-ee’s.
Soon after crossing the Mason-Dixon line, the first Buc-ee’s billboard came into view, “Only 350 miles to Buc-ee’s, You Can Hold It!” I checked my gas gauge and figured that by coasting the last 100 yards, or so, we could just make it.
The gas gauge was close to empty when Buc-ee’s came into view. It was even bigger than I had imagined. It looked like at least a million gas pumps and still there was a line. I guess that’s what happens when everyone “holds it” for 350 miles.
Walking into Buc-ee’s, I immediately suffered from sensory overload. Everything I had read about Buc-ee’s was true. The usual Slim Jim Meat Sticks were available, but so were thousands of others. Buc-ee’s has jerky made from every meat imaginable. I didn’t see it, but someone in line said they even had “Spotted Owl.”
I wish that I could give you more details from my shopping experience at Buc-ees. The last thing I remember was snacking on a bag of “Buc-ee’s Beaver Nuggets.” The shock of it all must have caused me to develop some sort of retrograde amnesia. Sandy told me later that I shopped at Buc-ee’s like a drunk Imelda Marcos at the Shoe Carnival.
I woke up the next morning, like the characters played by Bradley Cooper and Zach Galifianakis in the movie “The Hangover” trying to piece together the night before. I noticed that I was wearing Buc-ee’s pajamas and was sleeping on Buc-ee’s sheets. The mischievous beaver mascot was everywhere I looked.
In the bathroom was my new Buc-ee’s electric toothbrush along with Buc-ee’s towels, deodorant, and aftershave. I have Buc-ee’s socks, underwear and a coffee mug. I could go on, but you get the picture.
So, is Buc-ee’s just a fad, or will the Buc-ee’s Beaver become a part of Americana like Mickey Mouse? You be the judge. I’m just praying that this Buc-ee’s tattoo is temporary.
See you all next week, same Schwinn time, same Schwinn channel.
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