There is not a lot of authenticity to “typical Texas” these days. Restaurants and bars can often feel more like you landed at the Texas section of Six Flaggs…more like a theme park than the “state of mind” it used to be, back in the days before the Bush era. Back before the stereotypes brought on by the Urban Cowboy, Billy Bob’s, and “Who shot J.R.?”

To someone who was born and raised in Texas, some of this marketing hype can feel awfully offensive and distasteful, just as I am sure the N’awlins natives wince at the sight of a “Bubba Gump Shrimp Company” restaurant. It feels fake, patronizing, and downright embarrassing.

But every once in a while, I stumble upon a place where I instantly get that feel of true Texas authenticity. The Willie Nelson posters are yellowed around the edges, the wooden walls are distressed from wear, not wash, and the sawdust on the floor smells more like stale beer than a saw mill.

Instantly, I flash back to my old college days in Austin, eating barbeque behind a rickety screen door, drinking long necks at the Armadillo World Headquarters, back when Sixth Street was just a one way street leading to the Capital.

Just outside of Glen Rose on the highway to Stephenville is an old rusty, faded pink road sign pointing down a long, dusty white rock road. A mile through mesquite dotted pastureland and cedar fence posts leads me to the “Loco Coyote.”

I get the immediate sense I am in the right place at the first sign of the gleaming chrome from the vintage Harleys in the adjacent grass lot. Just like the stereotype of the gay community when it comes to pioneering real estate, when it comes to food, those biker boys know where to eat!

The welcome sign on the door enforces leaving your bad attitude at the door. Inside? Nothing but picnic tables in a rusty tin shack. The walls are covered with posters from Willie’s picnics, as well as warnings to leave your weapons outside with the bad attitude. There is a “burnt orange” corner dedicated to the University of Texas memorabilia. But the mainstay of the decor is “Sharpie scrawl” commemorating visits of the patrons all over the walls, the tables, and the ceiling. Not much for country music, it would be impossible to imagine this place without Willie Nelson’s familiar nasally voice greeting me with a “Well, hello there…”

The menu offers primarily burgers, barbeque and beer. The most famous offering is the “Pig Out,” which comes in servings for 2, 4, or 6. I asked the waiter if a “Pig Out for two” would feed the three of us. The guy gave me a very sly, sideways grin and said, “You’ve never been here before, have you?”

The sweet, crispy onion rings as an appetizer came on a plate the size of a wash tub. The “Pig Out” was lip-smacking good sliced brisket, sausage, ribs, fried catfish, and fried chicken tenders piled on a hay stack of French fries. We all “pigged out” until we could not eat anymore, and still filled two take-out containers left over for the road.

It is refreshing to find a little authenticity still left in the Lone Star state. As I drove back down the lone dusty road, I had a “Secret Life of Walter Mitty” moment as I could imagine myself saddling up to ride off into the sunset…on a chrome stallion named “Harley.”