Laugh if you must, but even in Texas we get cabin fever. The fact that we get it in summer and in winter makes it doubly amusing to you blue bloods in the north. Too bad. I'm cold, restless, and tired of the highlight of day being reading the morning newspaper. The internet promises some nice weather, I'm not too busy in the next coupla, so I decide to get on the bike. I'm not sure where I'm going, but outta here I must. The bike is packed with all the camping gear. With lows in the 50's F, my summer weight sleeping bag should be good enough, no? Tent, sleeping bag, pad, Kermit chair, some clothes, a Gerbings heated jacket liner (my version of Trust, but Verify), a motorcycle mag, and some South Beach diet bars. What else does man need? To places northwest we go. Through San Antonio and into the Hill Country. Boerne (pronounced Bernie here - dumbass Texans) seems a reasonable exit. I nearly wreck into a silly looking, wanna be cowboy wearing his black felt Stetson while driving his BMW M6. Nothing against western hats, but it literally didn't fit on that guy's head in that car. Besides, real cowboys drive Cadillacs, not BMW's. I mean, exactly how long am I expected to sit at that stuck red light? I'm on vacation, by God. Finally, Farm to Market bliss. I find FM 1376 and slowly cruise towards Fredericksburg. Nah, it's not the twistiest, nor the hilliest. But for pure calming scenery, 1376 does not suck. The weather is cooler than what I'd expect from the weather report. Then an aha moment: it's not called the Hill Country for nothing. It's cooler at 2000 feet than at the 500 feet of San Antonio. I'm gonna freeze my ass. So, camping at $9 a night at the Lady Bird Johnson State Park, or a cheap but clean motel at $44 + tax? Duh! I pull in and turn on the heater. What else do I need? I've got my laptop so I can surf the interweb, a MadMap of good Texas roads, a classic book (no symbolism there - that's what I was reading before I left) and a patent or two that I needed to read for my current consulting project. The next morning, the trip starts with a drive into Mason. Single lane bridges over the north and south Llano (you'd better pronounce it right, gringo) river, with abundant proof that I'm in the country. Finally, the Three Sisters, sometimes called the Twisty Sisters. But around here, the Threes is good enough. If you're from Texas, you've ridden them. If you're from out of state, you want to ride them. There are better elsewhere, but these are as good as any. And today, they're mine. Nothing but hills, curves, and scenery. You can ride like the devil through them, buy why? Memories of sportbikes and Harley's lying on the limestone while ambulances take their latest trophies to the local hospitals are fresh in my mind. It's 81 F, and I'm riding in the Texas Hill Country. Life doesn't suck.