It’s all fun and games until someone hallucinates Marty McFly…

Remember that scene from the movie “Cars” when Lightning McQueen and all the Radiator Springs cars get together and cruise down the main drag with digitally rendered neon glinting off their metallic paint jobs? Last weekend’s 2013 Texas Dream Cruise was sort of like that…except in the middle of the afternoon…in late June…in Texas.

Held at the FC Dallas stadium in Frisco, the Texas Dream Cruise was the largest car show I’ve ever been to. And the hottest. Trekking across miles of concrete parking lots that did nothing but radiate more heat didn’t help either.

To give you an idea of just how big the Texas Dream Cruise is, just think of it like the Disneyland for good looking cars. Thousands of cars, from classics to a few customs, filled acres on both sides of the stadium. There were whole parking lots just for Mustangs and Corvettes and VW Bugs and more. And, like Disneyland, there were plenty of colorful characters. (The pair of young men trying to out-rev their respective Mustang engines comes to mind. Or the guy who sported a replica of Speed Racer’s Mach 5.)

Nerdy highlight: finding this Hudson Hornet—a gem for anyone who’s in to automotive history, stock car racing history, or just likes the movie “Cars.” (Paul Newman, you are the absolute best.)

After mooning over the Hornet, we found some more cuties and oddities like Isettas (the Steve Urkel car), MGs and DeLoreans. I was majorly disappointed to find no flux capacitor in either of the two we saw.

At this point, I happened to mention to Mr. Man that I was a bit piqued, and perhaps we needed to head home. Four parking lots and half a mile later, I realized that I no longer picked up my feet, opting instead to shuffle haphazardly. Between shallow breaths, I mumbled to Mr. Man that maybe we should stop at that street corner where the Marty McFly’s girlfriend Jennifer was handing out “wuh-der.”

The logical part of my brain knew this was serious. I was exhibiting all the telltale signs of heat stroke. My vision became tunnel-like and hyper-colorful. My heart rate was way above normal. I was no longer aware of my arms, and my legs felt as if they’d been filled with sand. If I fainted now, I would feel no sensation of falling. Instead, the ground would rush up to meet my face with a whomp. I hoped the grass was cool.

After one more mumbled pant about Marty and maybe getting some “wommer” to drink, Mr. Man practically scooped me up and poured me into the nearest restaurant. Let me say it now, friends: Don’t ever do anything in Texas in June without having some water on hand. Never in my life have I been more thankful for air conditioning and a $1.29 bottle of Dasani...and Mr. Man.

The next time he wants to go to a car show, I may just stay home with Lightning McQueen and Doc. 

Redneck Sushi and a Sweet Bronco

Today’s trek, just up the road to Denton and Lewisville, was both pleasing to the appetite and the eyes. 

First we landed at Rooster’s Roadhouse in Denton for lunch. If you’ve never been, don’t worry. It’s not hard to find. Tucked into Denton’s burgeoning downtown/Industrial Street area, Rooster’s, perhaps in a cheeky nod to its neighbor Dan’s Silver Leaf, boasts—yep, you guessed it—a large metal chicken atop its roof. (Dan’s sports a big silver leaf on top of its digs, you see.) Or maybe Rooster's just wanted to put a giant metal chicken on their roof. Because they could. It seems logical. (For ideas on other things you can do with a giant metal chicken, read Jenny Lawson's memoir. There's a whole chapter devoted to it. Truth.)

Rooster’s fare is what I'd consider "traditional roadhouse" with a few quirky twists. In addition to classic burgers and barbecue sandwiches, there are: a salad named the "Double Wide," a veggie po' boy and pulled pork nachos (a personal fave) topped with a sweet-tangy barbecue sauce, jalapenos and pico. (It’s listed under “appetizers,” but it’s big enough for two meals easily...or one really big carbo-load, like if you were prepping for a marathon or something...or, like, 17 Weight Watchers meals.)

Another appetizer, the Redneck Sushi, is anything but fishy. Its brisket and sweet-hot pickles come slathered in barbecue sauce and cheese (That's right. I said slathered.) and wrapped in a tortilla. The best part, however, was the horseradish Dijon for dipping. Holy cow! Hold on to your chopsticks, that stuff packs a sinus-clearing punch that hits you like a fiery kiss and a simultaneous full-face slap.

A few pointers:

Silverware, napkins and menus are already at the table.

It’s almost always busy, and the noise level hovers somewhere near “constant ruckus.”

Try the Cockeyed Lemonade. Seriously. Try it. (*Not for tiny humans. Only for big people.)

Desserts, namely banana pudding, come served in mini-Mason jelly jars, a fact which I’m convinced enhances the flavor to drool-worthy heights.

All told, Mr. Man (AKA the hubs, the Tall One) and I got out of there with drinks, an appetizer, two entrees, and some of that banana pudding for less than $30. And we had enough left over that I broke the to-go container trying to make it all fit. (Don’t judge. You’ll be taking home the pulled pork nachos, too.)

Our second stop was a small car show in Lewisville where we perused a smattering of Corvettes, two Plymouth Road Runners (They really do honk meep, meep!), a handful of hotrods in various stages of rebuild and customization, and a ’72 Chevy Cheyenne that held Mr. Man’s eye. Its black ostrich interior didn’t hurt either. Seriously, I don’t know how you feel about ostrich, but the upholstery work was downright stunning.

My personal favorite was a nice looking maroon Bronco owned by a lovely young lady sporting a cool blue fedora-type hat.  I don’t know why the hat ratchets up the cool factor, but it does. Though it still needed some engine work, this machine was good lookin’, big but not too big, and broad without being too stocky. It was tough…but pretty. Totally my idea of the perfect vehicle for trekking—one well suited to a long drive with the windows down into the great wide open.