For the better part of a week last month, I spent my days cataloguing the destruction of the wildfires near Possum Kingdom Lake.

Over the course of the week, I logged hundreds of miles in my news car, blasting across the rural highways of Palo Pinto County to the musical stylings of the Traveling Wilburys.

The towns around the lake are back open for business, though, and do you know what I learned while I was there? This is a very boastful part of what’s already a very boastful state. And you should check it out.

As I was driving down Highway 281 south of Mineral Wells, a billboard beckoned to me.

“World’s Largest Cedar Rocking Chair!” it read.

I knew I would have to see it, even though it meant taking the company car miles out of the way at a time when gas costs $3.75 a gallon.

Sure enough, about 15 miles south of town, a giant rocking chair sits by the side of the road outside a place called Natty Flat Smokehouse, which is also a fine place for brisket after a long day of wildfire coverage.

“We’re in the Guinness Book of World Records,” the owner said to me.

“I notice you’ve got the word ‘cedar’ in there,” I said.

“Yeah, some guy in Colorado built a bigger rocking chair out of some other wood,” he explained. “But we’ve got the biggest one made out of cedar.”

“Well, everyone knows if you’re going to build a rocking chair, you build it out of cedar,” I posited.

“Damn straight,” he replied.

The following day, I was driving through Mineral Wells when another sign advertising a washing machine museum inside a laundromat caught my eye.

“Oh, I’ve gotta see this,” I said to myself, realizing this may be my only chance to tour a washing machine museum that day.

I slammed on the brakes and veered across three lanes of traffic to pull into the parking lot. It was everything I hoped a washing machine museum would be. Dozens of old-timey washing machines proudly on display above the working washing machines.

“It’s the only washing museum in the world,” the owner, Fred Wilson, told me.

“Is that true?” I asked.

“I like to think it is,” he replied.

As a journalist, I felt compelled to investigate the matter. It turns out, some other guy in Colorado claims to be running a washing machine museum of his own.

When I presented this information to Mr. Wilson, he confidently replied, “He only gives tours when people ask. That’s not really a museum. That’s just some guy with a bunch of washing machines.”

Good enough for me!

The following week, I found myself blasting across Ellis and Kaufman Counties chasing tornadoes (The music was Tom T. Hall). I was disappointed to find a much less impressive marketing campaign southeast of the Metroplex.

Not once was I beckoned to marvel at the World’s Blankiest Blank or wonder at the Only Blank in the Western Hemisphere. You need a hook, East Texas, otherwise everyone’s just going to think they’re driving through a podunk town.

Who wouldn’t pull off the road for this?