You probably entered The Twilight Zone and saw the Hotel California in
Texas. Did you go in and check for mirrors on the ceiling?
Your lucky to come out alive.

Cheers

Wally

>would have to live the rest of our lives in this alternate reality, Parker
>and I got out of the bus. We smelled the sage brush whistling in the night
>wind, and stood silently for a moment, pondering the 2-story glaring clown
>face, with it's merry, conical hat and delirious face paint illuminated
>like a strobe light in the flickering street lamp. NIN played in the bac
>kground.
>
>I don't recall either of us saying anything...but I know we both thought
>the same thing: "What the HELL is THIS?". We never got an answer, but in
>the flickering light of the parking lot for a freakish warehouse in the
>middle of nowhere, I found the problem with our bucking bus.
>
>I couldn't see it in the glaring light of the gas stations, but in the dim
>flicker of the CLOWN AROUND light, I beheld a small blue arc, from the
>negative battery post, to the negative ground strap terminal. I, in my
>haste to leave NC had not adequately tightened the terminal. If I pulled
>the terminal, the bus sputtered, and died. If I attached it firmly, it was
>smooth as cream. A few spins of the pliers, and it was done.
>
>As we crouched near the motor box of the van, making our repair, a sheriff
>pulled in, rolled down the window on his cruiser, and asked if we were
>okay. It only punctuated the paranormality of the situation...there wasn't
>a town visible for miles, WHERE did he come from? No one could have seen us
>from the road...how did he know someone was in the parking lot? We waved
>him on, and told him we had it fixed; soon we were back on the road...NIN
>playing the whole time.
>
>To this day, I have no idea exactly where "CLOWN AROUND" is. Somewhere off
>I-20, in the middle of West Texas, on a hot August night, when I was
>younger.
>

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