My younger brother, Jack, and I took a wonderful trip down the Rio Grande River in early April of 1990. At his home in Springfield, Miss., we loaded his canoe on top of his black Honda Civic and headed southwest. Outside of Fort Worth, Texas we encountered a violent thunderstorm which spit marble- sized hail at us. The storm was so strong that we sought shelter. Early the next morning, we continued across the endless Texas landscape with oil derricks crowding us on both sides.