The Great Texas Beer Run

For reasons still not clear, boatloads of German immigrants made Texas their home in the 1800s. What they thought they would find similar to their cold, richly forested homeland in the hellaciously hot, mes-quite-scrub, rattlesnake-filled Texas Hill Country is lost to history. Worse, they brought almost nothing with them from the Old World to remind them of home.

Almost nothing.

Brewing--and drinking--beer was one thing they brought with them. Fresh in their minds were centuries-old beer recipes, and upon arrival in central Texas, they set up breweries. These German-Americans spawned a remarkable--and nearly two centuries later, still prospering--beer culture in Texas. The notion of visiting several of these breweries in hopped-up Porsches seemed like a terrific excuse for a road trip.

The idea of a beer run was proposed to the folks at RAC Performance (online at www.racperformance.com) in Dallas, because they modify and upgrade all types of exotic automobiles and race cars in a thriving sales and performance shop. After one phone call, they were in.

“The Great Texas German Beer Run” was quickly planned: Six RAC performance-tuned Porsches, four Texas breweries, 800 miles, no crashes or tickets, no Cannonball moments, 48 hours door-to-door--and no drinking and driving. We repeat: No drinking and driving.

The group headed out from Dallas on a Friday morning through a wall of storms toward Rahr & Sons Brewery in Fort Worth--arriving to find a construction site with giant beer kettles. We arrived amid a total rebuild after a freak snowstorm caused a roof collapse, which brought brewing to a halt. But ever hearty with a family beer-making history dating to 1847, Rahr threw open doors and hosted us like long-lost family. The brewery has since reopened, serving classics such as the German Black Lager Ugly Pug.

We drove south in sunshine, and a ghost in one of the machines materialized an hour later in Dublin, population 3,764. Dublin--as in Ireland, birthplace of Guinness beer--and Texas, birthplace of Dr Pepper. The Dr's ghost wouldn't allow a posse of hot German metal in pursuit of cold German beer through his hamlet without payment: One of the cars broke down.

With the aid of local peace officer who was hilarious and helpful, we awaited a hauler and concocted a new plan: over-night at the Bates Motel, fried food overload, any beer, eyes-open sleep, early-morning run to Fredericksburg, back on timeline minus one hopped-up Porsche.

The Saturday-morning run was perfect: long stretches of gorgeous roads, blooming wildflowers, cobalt-blue skies and the thunderous roar of the exotic automotive conga line. We arrive at the Fredericks-burg Brewing Co. to find a waiting RUF R-Turbo cabriolet as a replacement. The RAC guys don't brook defeat; even though we were five hours from Dallas, the ghost issue wasn't theirs.

We explored the mysteries of FBC, located in an 1890s building, and the rich selection of beers produced in true German tradition. The menu has German classics, and lodging is available upstairs--all the better to enjoy the product and not worry about driving. The historic town is perfect for a romantic weekend getaway.

But not with your beer buddies.

We pressed on to Freetail Brewing Co. in San Antonio, the most radical brewery in Texas, named after the official Texas flying mammal, the Mexican freetail bat. Owner Scott Metzger is an iconoclastic brewer, making what he likes with an entirely new vibe unbound by convention. His Phantom of the Hopera is outrageous, and he slings wild brews.

And then the mecca summoned.

Over the roar of the Porsche motors, we heard angels, singing in frothy chorus, leading us to the Texas beer promised land: Shiner, Texas, home of Shiner Brewing Co. Its story is legendary, the hype is real--Shiner was in the movie The Hangover--and it pumps out terrific German-style beers from the original 1909 Spoetzl brewery in huge volumes to an adoring public.

Time stopped. It was late afternoon, and we had the massive silent brewery to ourselves. Shiner Bock beer sat in a warehouse just like at the end of the first Indiana Jones movie. The Porsches were outside ticking in the falling sun. Jimmy Mauric, brewmeister and 32-year Shiner employee, regaled us with tales of Shiner Beer lore and legend.

It was the perfect road trip, and we got to give the last hurrah. Mauric and a couple of the Shiner folks had been surreptitiously eyeballing the Porsches. They got a brief, glorious leg on the road trip and want to make the whole trip next year.

We made it home safely the next day to plan again. Anybody interested?

By Jeff Bolton