You Can’t Experience Buc-Ee’s For The First Time Again, But You Can Always Take Someone Who’s Never Been Before

Buc-ee’s is absurd. Ridiculous. Insane. No gas station should ever be that big, and yet, no matter how big your nearest Buc-ee’s is, there’s probably an even bigger one out there, with an even bigger car wash, too. It’s also absolutely incredible and the unofficial Official Gas Station of Jalopnik. Sorry, Sheetz. Even the food they serve is legitimately good, including the brisket, a cut of meat that usually underwhelming, even in Texas. You have to offer sacrifices to the Old Gods and recite the Ancient Words exactly right if you want brisket to be good, and few restaurants do. 

Once you visit a Buc-ee’s, you’ll never be the same, and sadly, you’ll also never get to experience Buc-ee’s for the first time ever again. You can only enjoy your first time once. As I found out last week, though, there is something that comes almost as close, and that’s taking someone to Buc-ee’s for their first experience. I didn’t even have to talk him into it, either. Tales of Buc-ee’s grandeur have even reached Michigan, and what better place could there possibly be your first Buc-ee’s experience than Plano, Texas?

Okay, if you want to get specific, we drove to the Denton Buc-ee’s because Plano doesn’t have one yet, but it’s all the same Dallas metro area. No one actually knows where one city ends and another begins out there. Maybe that’s offensive to say in Texas, but also, please consider how offended I was when someone else (not my drive partner, thank God) forced me to listen to that cursed Chevrolet/Drift Away song. It’s a good thing Dobie Gray is no longer with us, because what “Jelly Roll” and “Dustin Lynch” did to that song is a crime against music. Thankfully, my phone had plenty of Turnpike Troubadours on it to soothe my soul.

Anyway, as we loaded our stuff into a new 4Runner to go spend a day at the track, my drive partner pitched me on a little Buc-ee’s side quest. When he told me he’d never been, the decision was made. How could I, a Jalopnik staffer, deny this man the blessing of his first-ever trip to Buc-ee’s? Supras, GR86s and GR Corollas awaited us at the track, including the manual-transmission Supra that I’d never driven before, but that could all wait. I had an obligation to take this man to a Buc-ee’s.

As a red-blooded American man, he obviously loved it. My heart broke when I couldn’t convince him to try a breakfast taco, but I guess we can allow it since he’d already eaten breakfast, and we were headed to the track. Not really, but what was I going to do? Stuff a brisket taco down the man’s throat? Still, he left with a drink, a Buc-ee’s t-shirt and a hat. I think he’ll be back. 

And yes, the trip was mainly about ensuring he got the full Buc-ee’s experience, including a trip to the meticulously cleaned bathrooms, but it also filled my heart with joy, too. I’d already seen all the tacky cow skulls, horrifying home decor, pre-distressed signs making cutesy jokes about alcoholism and all the apparel. The fresh tortilla-making machine in the middle of the store was old news to me. I expected the bathrooms to be clean. But I got to show it to him and be there as he walked from display to display, taking in every bit of Texas-size excess.

If you live near a Buc-ee’s and no longer get excited about going, I get it. It’s old news for you now, and your memory of your first Buc-ee’s experience has faded. But I promise you, if you take someone who’s never been, it’ll still bring you more joy than any gas station/convenience store/barbecue restaurant has any right to. And don’t the people in your life deserve to know what it’s like inside a Buc-ee’s?