Bug bash — September 4, 2026

Every "Find 'Em" button on all 20 roadtrip pages, and any link built the same way, landed on a results screen showing nothing — not slow, not occasionally, every single time, for as long as the page sat open. The map's route data loads a moment after the page does, and the very first search always ran before it arrived; the retry that was supposed to run once it did was comparing against a cache of that first, empty attempt and never noticed the data had shown up. The retry now knows the difference between "no route yet" and "a route that's actually here."

Resetting the search and saving an itinerary both dropped keyboard focus back to the top of the page instead of the control that made sense next — and saving an itinerary could silently focus a control hidden inside a closed panel. Both now land focus somewhere you can act on, opening that panel first if it's shut.

A screen reader or voice-control user heard some fields by a generic name instead of the label sighted users read beside them — an aria-label was quietly overriding a real <label> in a few places, and a couple of visible headings weren't wired to their fields at all. Both are fixed.

The map carried role="img", which tells a screen reader "this is one picture" and prunes everything inside it from the accessibility tree — including the up-to-20 real, focusable buttons for each dot on it. Changed to role="group", so the map still has one label but the controls inside it are reachable.

Zoom worked from a keyboard; pan didn't — arrow keys did nothing. And once zoomed in, the map's touch-action:none caught every touch gesture over it, including the page's own scroll. Arrow keys now pan the map, and the map lets a vertical swipe through to the page while still catching a drag to pan.

The result cards were a plain stack of <div>s — no role="list", no per-card heading, so a screen reader had no "item 3 of 12" and no way to jump card to card by heading. The list now carries role="list" while it holds results, each card is a role="listitem", and the store name is a heading.

Opening the phone nav didn't trap focus inside it or mark it as a dialog, so a screen reader user tabbing through could wander back onto the page underneath a menu that was still visually open, and a link inside it threw focus back to the top of the page on activation instead of wherever it actually landed.

A bookmark's Directions link and Remove button, and an itinerary's Delete button, were nested inside the <summary> that opens and closes the row — interactive content inside interactive content, which several screen readers flatten into one control, hiding the buttons inside it. They now sit beside the row instead of inside it, stacked on top of the closed row in the same place they always looked like they were, with the row still opening on a tap anywhere else on it.

Reset Everything cleared every other filter but left the Open Now toggle on — and then hid the Reset button itself, since the toggle was the only thing left set. Reset now clears it too.

A handful of the named roadtrip pages measured mileage from the wrong end of the drive, so the stop table ran backwards — starting at the destination instead of the origin. Fixed for all eight named drives.

The stop named as roughly the midpoint of a drive was picked by its position in a list, not by actual mileage — on a long drive that could be nowhere close to the real halfway point. It's now the stop whose own mileage is nearest the true midpoint.

A page would say "stops within 10 miles" and then link to a search that didn't carry that number, so the results you landed on didn't match the sentence you read. The link now carries the same corridor width the page states.

The one-line hours summary on a result card was supposed to end in "…" when it ran out of room; instead it just got cut off mid-word, because the CSS that was supposed to add the ellipsis silently doesn't work the way the line was built. It's built a different way now, and the ellipsis actually shows.

Each chain's own color was reused as the small text naming it on a result card — fine for a color swatch (3:1), not enough for text (4.5:1), and Torchy's and P. Terry's missed it in most color schemes. The label now reads in the page's own high-contrast text color; the color stripe beside it still carries the chain's look.

The map's zoom buttons, the "More" button on a chain card, and the dots on the map itself all measured under the usual 44px comfortable-tap floor on a phone. Zoom buttons and "More" are bigger now; each map dot keeps its small visual size but gained an invisible, larger tap area centered on the same point.

A skip link is supposed to put your next keystroke inside the content it names — this one scrolled the page there and left focus sitting wherever it already was, because a browser will not move focus to a plain <main> without tabindex="-1" telling it that's allowed. Every document page's main landmark carries it now.

The breadcrumb's link back up a level carried no indication it was a link beyond its styling, and the map thumbnail's link was named after the picture rather than what tapping it does. Both now carry a real accessible name.

A chip for an amenity that would leave nothing in the results dimmed itself but stayed exactly as pressable, with nothing in its accessible name saying why tapping it might feel like it did nothing. It now carries a real disabled state a screen reader announces, not just a look a sighted eye reads as one.

The top bar's "Find 'Em" wordmark and a store's number in a city or attribute page's table both read in a brand color sized for a badge or a dot, not for 11px text — 2.34:1 and 3.06:1 against their background, both well under the 4.5:1 small text needs. The store number is fixed: it stays in its chain's own color rather than going neutral — the same mark the heading rule and the fact-card stripe beside it wear — just lightened along that chain's own hue only as far as text needs, so H-E-B's number is still visibly H-E-B's red and Torchy's still visibly Torchy's purple, each now clearing 4.5:1. The wordmark is a call Dave made rather than a fix: a shade that clears 4.5:1 on this dark bar reads as a washed-out pink next to the vivid red everywhere else on it (the Find 'Em button, the fixed store number, the heading rule) — a dark background and a small saturated red are both low-luminance, so the trade-off holds regardless of which red you start from. Kept the brand's own red, contrast shortfall (2.34:1) knowingly accepted, same shape as the CSS/document- page budget items above.

The search-mode button and the button that asks your browser for a GPS fix read identically in a screen reader's element list, eight lines apart, and only one of them has a privacy consequence. The GPS button is named "Locate me" now.

A drive from A to B and the same drive from B to A shared one cache entry, so the second direction you searched silently got the first direction's numbers back. The cache key now includes which way the drive runs.

A tab left open past a store's closing time kept calling it open, because nothing ever re-ran the check after the initial search. The page now rechecks once a minute while the tab is visible, and immediately when you switch back to it.

Yer Stuff data lives in your browser, and one bad record in it — from an old version of the page, or a manual edit — could throw an error that broke the page on load. Saved trips are now checked record by record, and a bad one is dropped instead of crashing anything.

The red pill in the bar that follows you down the page was named and colored identically to the button that runs a search, but tapping it only scrolled you back to the search panel — the results on screen never changed. It now runs the search first, the way its name always said it would.

The site caches itself so it still works with no signal, which is the whole point — but that means a tab you already had open can sit on yesterday's data while the page's own "Data Freshness" line still reads as current. A small, dismissable notice now offers a reload when a newer version is ready.

The date box on a saved itinerary looked exactly as editable as the time and minutes boxes beside it, but the date can't actually be changed after the fact — the itinerary is filed under that date — so any edit was silently thrown away and reverted the next time you opened the page. It's shown as plain text now: nothing to type into, nothing to quietly ignore.

On all 86 document pages, what a search engine reads as the page's location in the site and what a visitor actually sees printed at the top could name different paths. Both are now built from the exact same list, so they can't drift apart again.

One chain's hub page promised amenities it doesn't publish any of; the other's hid the ones it actually has. The titles were swapped between the two. Fixed.

Buc-ee's "world's largest" badges — on the store table, on a bookmark, on a saved itinerary, and missing outright from every roadtrip corridor page that passes one — read as arithmetic this site worked out, with no source and no read date attached. Every place the badge appears now says whose count it is, links where it came from, and names when it was read.

Every city page and the provenance page compute real facts and questions about themselves, but the record-keeping that feeds the site's own duplicate-answer and minimum-fact checks never picked them up — 25 city pages and the provenance page were invisible to their own quality gate. They're counted now, and two answers that turned out to be identical across different towns once they were finally checked got named for the town they're about, fixing the collision on their way in.

A chain hub page and an attribute page already told a search engine what hours each store keeps; a city page or a roadtrip page telling the exact same story left hours out of its own structured data entirely. Both now carry it, off the same lookup every other page tier already uses.

A "coming soon" listing carries whatever address the chain announced, which for a store under construction is sometimes a rezoning filing or an empty lot — Directions sent you there anyway, with nothing on the card saying that's a bad idea. The button is gone from a coming-soon card; the announcement itself is still there.

Once a store's hours data aged past this site's own ninety-day freshness window, the card fell back to printing the raw database format underneath it instead of a plain sentence — clipped mid-string on a phone, and never meant for anyone to read. It reads as an actual sentence now, whatever its age.

The masthead's compact nav read "Places" and "Trips" while the sections they land on are headed "The Places" and "Roadtrips" — fine for a sighted reader watching the page scroll, silent for anyone reading the link list on its own. Spelled out in full now, matching the sticky bar below it.

A roadtrip page's hero map always framed the whole state, whether the drive itself was 400 miles or 12 — so a short corridor's actual route was a hairline nobody could make out. It now frames the drive it's a picture of.