The home decor section (yes, it’s its own department) sells bejeweled crosses and farmhouse-chic kitchen signs with chirpy proclamations like “All I Need Is a Little Bit of Coffee and a Whole Lot of Jesus!” There is enough rival gear from UT and A&M to spark World War III. And that hoary old “Don’t Mess With Texas” cliché makes its way onto everything from bottle openers to bumper stickers, because if there is anything Texans love, it’s Texas. Good luck finding a pink-fringed vest with matching air gun and lasso at a Wawa, or a spangled belt buckle the size of a Craftsman bungalow at a Sheetz.
The one thing Buc-ee’s loves more than Texas, of course, is Buc-ee’s. The store sells a stupefying array of merchandise emblazoned with its buck-toothed, chubby-cheeked beaver mascot, including tie-dye dog bandanas, ice chests, pint glasses, fridge magnets, and pajama pants. Buc-ee’s-branded vintage trucks brim with beaver plushies. Shelves are loaded for bear with beaver bobbleheads, all nodding in support of customers’ slushie-and-Slim Jim hauls. The grinning beaver is even cross-stitched onto throw pillows—proof that your grandma is also a sworn member of the Buc-ee’s cult.
There are practical reasons to visit Buc-ee’s, too. The gas is some of the cheapest in the country; the bathrooms, which are hung with oil paintings of longhorn cattle, are famously spotless thanks to the teams of custodians that work 24 hours a day to clean them; and there is almost no snack on earth this place doesn’t stock, from Takis Meat Sticks to Flamin’-Hot Funyuns. The workers are friendly and helpful—probably because the chain pays its employees a living wage, in addition to giving them 401(k) plans and three weeks of paid vacation.
Like other Buc-ee’s stans, I’ve planned day trips to the New Braunfels flagship, a 66,335-square-foot Shangri-La located between Austin and San Antonio. It’s a destination unto itself, with more than 120 filling stations, 83 toilets, 80 soda fountains, and 31 cash registers. Though it’s in the record books as the world’s largest convenience store, it’s about to be bested by one of its own: the Buc-ee’s that broke ground in Luling last November will clock in at 75,000 square feet when finished in 2024. The Buc-ee’s in Katy, meanwhile, is home to the world’s longest car wash; it has 25 rolling brushes, 255 feet of conveyor belt, and takes five minutes to coast through.
And that’s the thing—a visit to Buc-ee’s is never just a pitstop. It’s the stuff of legend, bigger than time and space, an oral tradition passed from parent to child, and a surefire way to make fast friends of strangers. Long after I’ve left the store, I wax poetic about Beaver Nuggets, the caramel-laced corn puffs so sweet they’ve probably paid for 100 dentists’ mortgages. I join the debate over the correct way to pronounce Buc-ee’s (it’s Bucky like Chucky, not Busey like Gary) and trade stories with fellow zealots about our “first times.” Mine was at the O.G. Luling store in 2016. I had never heard of Buc-ee’s until I saw a million cheeky billboards advertising it on the drive west from Cajun Country. It was love at first pump—and all these years later, I can’t say I visited Texas if I don’t carve out a visit to Buc-ee’s.
