To Beaver . . .
My aunt Maureen sent me your Buc-ee’s article [“Buc-ee’s Goes Big,” March 2019]. The “cult” of Buc-ee’s caught my eye, because it truly has a cult following in our family. This past month my aunt and uncle drove down to escape the Chicago temperatures, and they teased me with selfies in front of the bronze Buc-ee. So of course I then put my order in for my favorite jerky and BBQ rubs. Lol.
Mary Bridget Graham, Channahon, Illinois
The first time my family entered Buc-ee’s, we were on our way to Port Bolivar, and we spent an hour in the store. Our stop took 20 percent of the trip’s time. I don’t know if this is embarrassing or if it just demonstrates the passion we have for the store, but either way, I love it, and you perfectly captured why.
Brandi Addison, Midland
Thanks for reading Texas Monthly
Funny story: Since the New Braun-fels store opened, I have stopped every time I pass. I have pissed in the same urinal every time. The same one every time. That is my urinal. I feel completely at home.
Lorne D. Guitzkow, Hondo
. . . or Not to Beaver
Buc-ee’s is an environmentally irresponsible eyesore on the landscape of Texas highways. It’s repulsive and represents all the worst consumerism possible, from its offensive logo to its miles of storefront and gas pumps. Think about it: How do fifty aisles of mostly empty lanes to buy gas or miles of snacks that will kill you or junk trinkets contribute to a path of world domination? How? How does writing about the blight on our Texas culture make my life better?
Steve Louis, Houston
The quirkiest novelty about Buc-ee’s is not the fascination with scatology that dominates its highway billboards but the bizarre refusal to inform motorists of its fuel prices, as nearly every other gasoline station in the country does. Your laudatory article claims that Buc-ee’s fuel prices are among the lowest in the nation, but the only way a prospective customer can determine the price at the moment of need is to snuggle up to a pump and peer at its tiniest numbers. I concede that the Buc-ee’s men’s restroom is so enormous that it’s difficult to imagine any crisis that would require gents to queue up for a number one or two. I presume the ladies’ room is even more commodious.
Don Buckman, Fort Worth
They sell all that dang food and there’s no place to sit and eat it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stood out front and ate my food off the woodpile. Come on, Beaver.
Clarissa Sarino, Georgetown
My greatest family adventure, from fifty years ago, was at the Devils River [“The Temptation of the Devils,” March 2019]. As my dad always said, “Leave it better than you found it. Police the area!” That meant pick up all the trash, even something not from us. Even something really old, like tin cans and bottle caps. We learned about small details and the majesty of a big sky at night. Please leave it better than you found it.
Jamie Tolbert Franklin, via Facebook