Rush Hour Rambling

Weather: Sunshine and 40 mph winds.

He was an old gray squirrel, urban variety, and now I knew how he got that way.

Head held low in humility, and tail held high for visibility, he crept slowly and carefully across the main street of Fergus Falls. Traffic on both sides of the road stopped to let him pass.

Had he been one of those speedy young hotrod squirrels, dashing and darting across the pavement, he never would have stood a chance. But this elderly furball knew his stuff, and soon he was perched on a limb overlooking Fergus Falls’ rush hour, such as it was.

Good for him.

Frogwing and I were leaving, headed out of town, into the teeth of a 40 mile-an-hour wind. These are common out here on the northern prairies, but I don’t think I will ever get used to them.

When you ride across these winds, you have to lean about twenty degrees to maintain a straight course. Riding into them, you can count on a twenty percent drop in gas mileage. There is a mathematical symmetry to that which you just can’t argue with.

We crossed the border into North Dakota, and headed southwest on county roads and state highways until we reached the town of Havana.

Liquor, Guns, and Ammo…

Frogwing, in front of the M&J Inn, Havana, North Dakota.

The only business in town that seemed to be receptive to travellers was the M&J Inn. This building used to be the local bank, as evidenced by it’s solid brick construction and the faded lettering on the facade. I parked Frogwing outside, and walked through a time-warp disguised as an ornate, hardwood door.

Inside, there was an, um, experienced lady reading a newspaper behind the bar. She looked up at me as though I had interrupted something terribly important. Her expression changed to total contempt when I ordered a Coke. But she went and got it for me, while I looked behind the bar at some things I thought I would never see together in one place…

Right over the rail where the hard liquor is kept, there was a sign advertising various firearms and ammunition for sale. We’re not talking strictly hunting stuff here. They have SKS and AR-15 assault rifles along with various Baretta models I am not familiar with. Then they had listed all the ammo needed for these weapons. Apparently, all the ordnance is kept in the old bank vault. What a nice set-up!

When I asked her about how accurate the SKS was, she said, “You’ll have to ask my husband. He handles all the gun stuff.”

When I asked if her husband was around, she said, “Nope. He drives truck.”

That was as far as our communication evolved on that hot, windy afternoon. Frogwing and I rode away from there with a strange sense of foreboding…

If I ever decide to lead the revolution to retake this country from Walmart and Exxon, I think I know where I’m going to set up my headquarters.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 6th, 2006 at 7:35 pm and is filed under Ride To Work. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.