Our readers in Texas will probably laugh at this column, seeing as though what it will discuss has been a known item in the Lone Star State since 1982. That’s when the first Buc-ee’s opened in Lake Jackson, northeast of Houston. But if you’ve never been to Buc-ee’s, you might consider taking a road trip somewhere along a route where one of the more than 50 locations can be found. Because if you do, you’ll come away with a freshly filled reservoir of faith that the America you know, love, and grew up with is not dead, and in fact thrives — at least in the not-so-small oases where a goofy-looking, smiling cartoon beaver stares down from a giant sign. Buc-ee’s is about as pure a distillation of American capitalism as there has ever been. Think of a cross between a convenience store and Godzilla, a nuclear explosion of the free-market impulse that creates so many revenue streams and product lines as to reach a level of wildly entertaining absurdity. It’s like McDonald’s, Walmart, and Disney World converged on a 7-Eleven, and the fusion reaction gave birth to a capitalistic T-Rex with big buck teeth and a goofy smile on his face to serve the finest fountain drinks and junk food man has ever seen. With the cheapest gas and cleanest restrooms — typically more than 30 urinals and 50 stalls in each store, by the way — that you’ll find anywhere. I’m bringing this up, of course, because while I’d heard rumblings about Buc-ee’s, it wasn’t until Wednesday when I finally had the full experience. My Buc-ee’s epiphany came in the middle of nowhere. The Buc-ee’s website lists Store #42 as residing in Loxley, Alabama, though the actual address of the place is in Robertsdale, Alabama. And the address says the store is on County Road 68, but that isn’t what you see when you turn in. You stop at a light after exiting I-10 and turning south, and your cross street that leads you to Convenience Store Nirvana is … Buc-ee’s Boulevard. And when you arrive, there are literally dozens of gas pumps. Dozens. I’m talking about 100 of them. People are everywhere. At 9 a.m. on a Wednesday morning, it looked like Talladega or the Daytona 500. There might have been 1,000 people in and around the store when we pulled in. A few of them were getting ice out of the TWENTY different freezers set along the outside of one wall. Those were placed next to a selection of gigantic barbecue smokers, which were in turn next to a selection of cast-iron fire pits for sale. And inside it looked like Grand Central Station. I’ll admit I was momentarily dizzy. In the far-right corner was a bank of Icee dispensers. I counted 16 different flavors of Icees. Then there were 30 different coffee dispensers pumping out some of the hottest coffee known to mankind. Not to mention a bank of drink fountains offering every kind of soda drink you’ve ever heard of and quite a few you haven’t. Every manner of commercial snack known to man is sold at Buc-ee’s, from Funyuns to Snickers bars. But that isn’t significant. What is significant is the Beaver Nuggets, perhaps the world’s best caramel corn sold in embarrassingly large bags. Or the more than 20 different flavors of beef jerky, available in delicatessen-style displays along the back wall (the Mesquite Peppered jerky and the Cherry Maple jerky were the two I fell in love with). But the Buc-ee’s brisket tacos might just be the greatest convenience-store food ever invented. All of the employees smile, hustle, and joke with the customers. There’s a Black Friday rush atmosphere to the place, and yet there is no line at the checkout counters, every single one of which is manned by a cashier who works efficiently and enthusiastically — and for a reason: Buc-ee’s pays their employees exceptionally well. A sign at the gas pumps advertises $18-an-hour wages for the lowest positions, up to $200,000 per year or more for a store manager. It’s a capitalistic shangri-la. No better shrine to productive, happy prosperity has ever graced our beautiful planet. It’s a place that utterly trumps, somewhat hilariously so, all of the grifting and griping of the American Left. There are no social problems at Buc-ee’s. Beef jerky knows no race, and brisket tacos know no gender. Beaver nuggets and fried pecans have no politics. And if you believe any of this harms the planet, we laugh at your derangement. Greta Thunberg might just be fed to the beaver if she were ever to complain about a Buc-ee’s. It might sound stupid to say it: this is about as close to heaven as roadside commerce can get. I’ve fallen in love with Buc-ee’s. I get it now. I might be a late arrival, but I’m now firmly in the cult. I want one of those goofy beaver statues that graces the front entrance, I crave another of their delicious sausage biscuits and the Beaver Tots that go with it, and I’ll be thinking about the Cookies & Cream–flavored fudge until I wander back that way to have it again. And I’ve got to have one of these stores in my hometown. So do you. America isn’t dead. America lives and breathes. The real signal of resistance to woke communism isn’t the Gadsden flag or the Appeal to Heaven flag, though those are wonderful in their own right. No, it’s that cartoon beaver. Buc-ee’s might just lead the counterrevolution. And if so, we’re in good hands. READ MORE: ‘No, I Don’t Believe You, and It Isn’t My Fault — It’s Yours’ We’ve Always Had To Contend With These People The post America Thrives at the Interstate Exit appeared first on The American Spectator | USA News and Politics.