Ask A Texan: The Quest For Big Rock Candy Mountain And The Bates Motel

Sort of Professional Texas Advice For Folks That Can’t Afford The Real Thing.

This Texan received a postcard from The Walmart in Tom Joad, Oklahoma. It seems that Mr. Junior Steinbeck’s wife, Rose of Sharon, thinks she is real sick and wants a vacation bucket list trip, which he can’t afford.

Mr. Steinbeck: Mr. Texan, I’ve never written a request for advice, so please consider this my first and bear with me if I make any mistakes. Two weeks ago, Rose of Sharon, my wife of forty-five years, said she was near the end. This is nothing new; she and her four sisters are all world-class hypochondriacs and have so many fatal diseases that it’s a miracle any of them are still walking around and breathing. The woman has been on death’s door since the honeymoon, but has been as healthy as a town dog for all these years. Rose of Sharon comes to me and says that, since she is pretty sure this malady is the fatal one, she wants to take one last trip and go see the Big Rock Candy Mountain in South Dakota. I say, “There ain’t no Big Rock Candy Mountain, that’s a dang song.” She says, “No, Junior, it’s that big candy rock with those faces carved in it.” I say, ” No, Rose, that’s Mount Rushmore and those faces are the past great presidents, are you a moron?” Well, I gave in since she was ill and all.

We load up the truck and head out. About midnight, Rose says she needs a bed to sleep in, and our Ford Ranger pickup ain’t no Simmons Beauty Rest. I remember that guy on the radio always saying We’ll leave the light on for you, so I started looking for that motel. We drive into a town, and there it is: Motel 3, with its sign all lit up. I walk into the office, and there’s this guy behind the desk dressed like one of those Beatles boys, and he has a red dot on his forehead. The place is all smoky and smells like perfume burning, and I hear a goat from somewhere in the back office. I say we need a room. He says it’s okay, it will cost $25.00. I’m thinking that’s awfully cheap, but I’ll take it. Rose is moaning and groaning and thrashing about in the front seat. Once in the room, Rose decides she needs a shower. She comes out of the bathroom and says, “Junior, there ain’t no towels, toilet paper, or soap, what the hell?” So, I go to the office and tell Mr. Abdul something or another, we need the bare necessities. He says, “towels, $5.00 each, soap is $2.00, toilet paper is $ 3.00. I’m thinking this is a rip-off, but I pay anyway. I get back to the room and Rose says there ain’t no pillows or sheets on the bed. By this time, I’m a little hot. Same response: Pillows $4.00 each, sheets $10.00, and if you want to watch TV, the cord is $5.00. Again, I pay. Rose needs her rest and some clean sheets.

I go to put on the sheets and there is a big, old, huge blood stain on the mattress, so I flip it over and the blood stain is even bigger. Rose of Sharon freaks out and screams, ” Junior, this is the Bates Motel. I ain’t taking no shower and get stabbed by a lunatic granny.” We pack it up and leave, drive all night to Mount Rushmore. Rose thinks it’s no big deal, a big rock with faces. All she ever wanted was to see Big Rock Candy Mountain. Any ideas how I can fix this mess with the Motel 3 and a disappointed wife?

The Texan: Well, dang it, Junior, I’m almost, but not quite, a loss for words on this one. I have a couple of aunts who have been living with fatal diseases for about sixty years, and not one of them has expired yet. My grandpappy says it’s the water in Texas, stuff keeps you alive for a little too long past your shelf life. Motels aren’t what they used to be. I suspect you were looking for that Tom Bodett Motel 6: that’s the one that leaves the light on for you. You stumbled into one of those foreign-run places that charge for everything, even the cock roaches. You can sue the grifter, but it’s likely to cost more than the bill, so let it lie. Take Rose of Sharon to Enchanted Rock in Fredericksburg, Texas: it looks like a big old slab of rock candy, and she probably won’t know the difference. Keep in touch, and I’m sending Rose a box of Big Rock Candy and a copy of The Grapes of Wrath.