THE KWIK-MART KHRONICLES

Discussion in 'Ride Reports - Day Trippin'' started by jdrocks, Apr 6, 2018.

  1. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

    Joined:
    Jul 6, 2007
    Oddometer:
    7,515
    I decided to pull these snippets together in one place. The events described are from travels, both near and far, and center primarily on subject material derived from food and fuel stops at convenience stores...Kwik-Marts. The subject material found on these stops is of infinite variety and unending. If you are both alert and observant, there are stories to tell.


    THE KWIK-MART KHRONICLES 1

    The sun was real low and bright in the western sky and I was riding right into it. I had a dull ache between my shoulders, and my eyes were on fire, nearly shut. I don’t usually wear sunglasses, but I had a new Arai XD3 and the visor was helping some. The dew point was 82d and the air was so hot and thick it was like riding through a thin soup. Light traffic, and many State guys running radar on this stretch so I had to watch the speed. When I reach the first intersection, some people point my direction. It has to be the fuel cans, unusual equipment east of the Mississippi. I give up on reaching I95 before it comes to a standstill at rush hour and stopped for a soft drink. It was only 98d, and I had the liner in my jacket. I needed something real cold, and right now.


    I pull the bike into a convenience mart and do my somewhat awkward dismount. Sorry, but I’m about 150 years old and not as limber as I used to be. Leaning up against the concrete block wall is a guy even older than me, like maybe you might have to carbon date him to find out when he was born. I was in fine shape by comparison, and that thought perked me right up.

    Everything he was wearing was faded. Faded hat, work shirt, khaki pants, and even his boots were now just a dusty sand color. Faded, that is except for his boney face, weathered dark as tree bark and about the same texture. Rail thin and standing there with his cane, it struck me that it might be less painful for him to stand than it was to sit. I nodded to him by way of introduction, but got no reaction in return. Helmut off, then jacket, I left everything on the bike and went in to get my drink. The old guy wasn’t talkative, but I didn’t think he would let anyone wander off with my gear.

    When I came back out, the guy was still standing there. I think it was his spot, and if I came back a month from now, he would be standing right there. He was enjoying the cigarette hanging in the corner of his mouth and was one of those smokers who both inhale and exhale with the thing just parked there. He didn’t look like he was watchin’, but don’t kid yourself, those old eyes see everything.

    Halfway through my drink, two Harleys pull in and park right next to me. The bikes were angled away from me and could have been the Jap version of those bikes, I don’t follow that market too closely. Thirtyish couples, half helmets, short sleeves, cargo shorts, and sneakers. Harleys or not, they thought they were riding Harleys. One bike had a diecut on the fender that said “Head Motherfucker”. Gee, that goes real well with those new white tennies. The girls were jumbo size, but still shopped for size 4. Any of those buttons let loose and innocent bystanders would be killed by shrapnel. They looked at me, then the bike, but never said a word.

    Time to go, this ain’t my crowd. Jacket back on, and I’m about to put the helmet on when I glance at the old man. He’s looking right at me, we make eye contact, he looks over at the Harley crew, and then directly back to me…with a wink, and an almost imperceptible smile. I really have to laugh. The old guy looks to be a day past dead and chooses not to talk, but it doesn’t mean he’s blind to certain dynamics or realities. With a smile and another nod to my ancient friend, I’m gone.
    #1
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  2. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK-MART KHRONICLES 2

    The kwik mart gas station at Bartow is a well known fuel stop for bikes, no matter whether you're on a gravel route, or riding the twisty roads. There are a number of rallies that are based at Boyer around the corner, no bikes around today. I pulled up to the pumps, shut down, did my awkward as heck dismount off this tall bike, whew. The woman gassing up in front of me started laughing, and I said "That's a new dance step I invented", and she said "No it ain't, ya cain't dance a lick". Oh well, now my feelin's were hurt. Got the helmet off, took a look around at the cast of characters, oh boy, here we go, show time at the kwik mart, and it ain't the Grand Ole Opry...isn't this just wonderful.

    Ok, it was a somewhat hot day, but not one you would think of as getting your behind cooked in one of those jumbo smokers. It wasn't a designated beer festival day in West Virginia as far as I knew, no "Beer on Sale" signs posted around this place, but every single person in this crowd was somehow engaged in a beer activity enterprise. Buying, carrying, icing, opening, and drinking, the works, it was a dog gone beer free-for-all. There should have been a stage with the local garage band playing heavy metal covers, half deflated beach balls swatted around, corndogs, cotton candy. No beer snobs here, no art deco beer labels, no sirree, this was drinkin' beer, the cheap stuff, no bespoke hops, no nutty flavor. Here was an instance where the nuts were all on the working end of those cans and bottles.

    One thing you learn quickly around these stores is that those single jumbo cans and bottles sold are not for sipping while watching the night game on ESPN, they rarely make it out of the parking lot. So I wasn't surprised when two guys and a gal walked by and one guy said "Honey, can you open this, ma hand's too slippery", she grabbed the bottle and a big handful of her ragged cut off T, wrapped it around the neck and gave a big twist.

    Yowzers, ain't nothing on under that T shirt, not pretty, no one stepped up to offer her the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, she had no glowing halo of celestial light shining around her, it was just the reflection from the Coors Light sign. Then again, could have been her mustache, I think you're supposed to have a close shave if ya want to be in SI, be good to tear off that birth control patch too. The other guy was standing there and saw the whole thing, "Can ya open mine too?", must have been more woman parts than he'd seen up close in a coons age. Those two guys thought she was enchanting, I wasn't standing all that close, still thought I might be gettin' an outbreak of hives.

    I was watching for an encore until she gave me a cold hard look through those dull eyes, damn lucky I was a mind reader, holy crap, she planned to cut my balls off with her car keys if I didn't stop staring and get lost right the heck now. She wasn't drinking a sense of humor out of that bottle, at least not today. So long, Honey, enjoyed the show.

    The three big ol' boys across the pumps from me had finished off six beers just since I parked the bike, tossed the empties in the back with all the rest. I didn't think they were binge drinkers, they were steady drinkers, all day every day drinkers, chaser tucked under the seat of the pickup. Matching beat up cooler in the back of that beat up truck, gettin' low, and the one guy went in and came back with another case, plus a bag of ice. Put away another while the beer was carefully iced down, that makes nine, heck, they haven't even left the pumps yet.

    Time's up, and they squeezed three itchy, sweaty, tatted up hippo bodies into the cab of that pickup, driver and passenger half hanging out the windows, not a good fit in there, each holding beer number four, don't think they were in there discussing the wine list for that upcoming soiree. The motor in that truck sounded like an old refrigerator falling down three flights of stairs when it started up, yup, those boys drank up a 12 pack when they stopped for fuel.

    Damn, too late, I wanted to ask that one beetle browed guy where he got those pale blue jailhouse flipflops, he had a certain sartorial fashion sense, a trend setter, but he was grinding his teeth and mumbling something, a slow bubbling lava flow of mental acuity, an explosion eminent, better not.

    The collaborating hippos took their drunken circus on the road, no fear of the abyss ahead, might be a buzz kill, and I think I could still hear that POS truck when it was half way to Durbin.



    #2
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  3. JoeFab

    JoeFab Been here awhile

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    804
    Location:
    niagara falls, canada eh!
    Great start, keep it coming !...j.f.:1drink
    #3
  4. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

    Joined:
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    ^^^^^ok, here ya go...

    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 3

    We take a break at the McClaren River Lodge. They were in the process of opening for the season and unstocked merchandise was scattered around. The pretty young girl working the register was just learning her summer job and made a big mistake in my favor when she rang up my ice cream bar and other junk. When I pointed this out, she said "Gee thanks, they want me to pay if I goof up like that". The second time around she made an even bigger mistake in her favor, by gosh, that girl is a quick study. I gave up and told her to keep the change.

    I step back and take another quick look at her. I hear a little clink as a quarter rolls down the coin slot on my mental juke box and a Bob Segar cut starts playing..."She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes...". Standing there with a quizzical look on her face, she gives me a tiny wink with her left eye and says "Bye". With a big whoosh I was out the door and headed for the bike on the run. I needed some fresh air before I had a heart attack. I had the bike running before I jumped in the saddle, and in a cloud of dust we were gone to Paxson.

    Mind readers must scare the heck out of me.
    #4
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  5. RevyRider

    RevyRider FXD Traveler

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    Location:
    Revelstoke, BC
    I am enjoying your dry sense of humor and colorful writing. Keep the Kronicles coming...
    Cheers
    #5
  6. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    will do, here's another...

    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 4

    Into the store for a drink, the guy in front of me at the register has a black ink dashed line tattoo around his throat with stencil script lettering that says CUT ON DOTTED LINE, oh brother, too much playtime in the big house. The dude was using the counter to hold himself up, half turned towards me, baggy pants riding low, the tag on his plaid boxers facing front, yessiree folks, he was wearing his undies inside out and backwards.

    Bought a twelve pack, and his parting words to the cashier were "It was just a mister meaner, he let me go on yurcoginance", pretty sure I got that exactly right, amazing command of the native tongue. If he hadn’t looked like a freakin' psycho killer with a wolverine face, I might have pointed out that little problem with the boxers. I had to google it up quick on my smart ass phone, yup, public flogging has been outlawed in the Commonwealth for quite some time.
    #6
  7. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 5

    Around the corner and down the hill, we’re in Chicken. Forget about the RV campgrounds, we go directly to the small café for breakfast, and lucky us, it’s open.

    [​IMG]

    And yes, the pretty lady running the place is still there, although the strain of an ill mother and lack of much early season business is showing on her face.

    [​IMG]

    The display cases are full of fresh bakery goods of all descriptions, my favorite food group. There’s a big wildfire crew working a fire nearby and a tour bus is due in so it will all be long gone. We get down to business and I order a big breakfast. The short order cook is an older fella that looks like he has been up the river and over the mountain more than once and whatever he found out there hadn’t impressed him all that much. Now he was cookin' in Chicken. The owner was jabbering away at him, "Remember this, you forgot that", and on and on. I saw him glancing at his watch every few minutes, and I imagine he was wondering if it was too early to start some real serious drinkin'.

    Suddenly the gal stopped talking, went over to the register and yanked out a $20 bill. "Forgot to give you some tip money", and she shoved the bill deep into his front pocket.

    Damn, if she did that to me off and on during the day, I’d forget how to make toast too.
    #7
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  8. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 6

    Over, around, ascend, descend, on and off the pegs, no heroics, but I was doing ok, maybe I’ll get through to the other end…and that’s when I rolled up on a locked gate at the 7 mile mark, WTF, there was no mention of a gate being here, locked or otherwise. Full stop, nuthin’ worse, ok, an upside down full stop would be worse.


    [​IMG]

    At first I thought the gate was just closed, nope, big ass industrial padlock on the damn thing. No ride-around, I’d have to backtrack out. I’ll say right now, I got out of there a hellofva lot faster than when I went in, so if you happen to like those soaring exhaust notes, well, I was makin’ ‘em as I rode the wrong damn direction. Plan B, ain’t no Plan B, I’d need to improvise, and suddenly the day became unruly.

    Blocked on the east, Quebec only a few miles north, forget freakin’ west, that leaves south, and I wasn’t finding any gyroscopic enlightenment in that selection either, heck, didn’t I just come from there? Ornery demons were stirring, but when I stopped for fuel, the first person I saw was a gorgeous French girl wearing Rouge Pur Couture in “Red Alert”, while the first person I met was an old Maine guy who asked “Where you headed?” Well, it’s like this….

    I’d been distracted by Miss Red Alert, flimsy thigh-high summer dress courtesy of a fashion house I couldn’t immediately identify, freakin’ legs everywhere, lordy, but she left for Quebec, so I wandered inside and bought a Maine road map. Qwikmarts are a never ending gift for the observant.

    There was nothing shown on the map that got me west to east, and pavement looked like a 200 mile detour, but that’s when I met my new Maine friend. I hadn’t hit the panic button just yet, but if I had, this is the type of guy you would want to show up. When I named the road, then remarked that I’d found a gate at the 7 mile, he said “Yeah, that gate is exactly 7 miles in”, now he knew I wasn’t just talkin’ crap.

    He went on to explain that there was another series of west-to-east roads farther north that would get me to where I wanted to go, “I’ll show you”, and he marched into the quikmart, picked up a Maine Gazette off the rack, flipped to the right page, “Here, look”, and I saw a spaghetti network of logging roads. If connected, they would get me east, big emphasis on the “if”. I got out my notebook, jotted down some names and landmarks, thanked him several times over, and I was headed back north, my first road was not much more than 8 or10 miles below the border.

    Halfway back north to my new road, I find my Maine friend’s pickup in my mirrors, yup, he was following me to make sure I didn’t miss the turn, and when I did turn, he pulled along side to wish me luck and say goodbye, big smile, a twinkle in his eyes. Last night I was fed a darn good meal, today I got some personalized assistance, it ain’t a coincidence folks, it’s Maine.

    I sat there for a minute, I needed to gather myself in anticipation of what I’d find, and I don’t mind sayin’ it. It’s a damn long way across, and as I’ve already mentioned, I don’t know diddly about these roads, and now even less about this route which was not loaded on the GPS. My minute was up, I had momentum again, still believed in my own magic, and just then decided the diddly that crossed my mind earlier must be subliminal Bo Diddley, and I launched east on rough gravel, singing way off key, but loudly…heck, I might be 70, but I still had some wicked thoughts about that little Red Alert thing…

    I walk forty-seven miles of barbed wire
    I use a cobra snake for a necktie
    I got a brand new house on the roadside
    Made from rattlesnake hide
    I got a brand new chimney made on top
    Made out of a human skull
    Now come on take a ride with me, Miss Red
    And tell me, who do you love?


    …and it was a long damn time before I saw pavement again.
    #8
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  9. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 7

    We still haven't had breakfast, but we stop at the local truck stop for fuel and they have a café, we're in luck.

    When I go in to pay, nobody's in the café, and Bimmer decides we need to look for another breakfast place. I think he got a good look at all the hair sticking out from the cashier girl's underarms and lost his appetite. Geeeez, if you're going to wear the French cut Ts and grow all that long hair under there, at least style it or something. There was enough hair growing under those arms for a fancy layered cut and a blow dry. I’m glad she was wearing long pants, because the sight of what she most likely had growing on those legs might have made me a little queasy too.

    I don’t think she cared what any man thought about it, eh.
    #9
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  10. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 8

    Highway 37A was like a cone weave, except the cones were big piles of bear scat, and I didn’t feel like getting poop all over the bike…my gear either, for that matter. Try the weave at 70-80MPH, you’ll have to steam clean your whole setup ‘cause ya won’t be missing all of it.

    When I rode past the glacier, hmmmm, this thing is way smaller since the last time I was here, better turn around and get another photo for comparison. A local guy said that Hyder got twenty-eight feet of snow during the past winter season, but global warming is causing glacier ice shrinkage. Forget that debate, I had ice cold beers on my mind, and that saloon in Hyder was calling, no Everclear shots for me, thanks anyway.


    [​IMG]

    Hyder, well, everyone should go there once, but now in a mysterious and inexplicable twist I was back, and when I was finally able to wrangle a bar stool and start in on the beer, damn, I was on the same stool as two years earlier. Yup, I picked the same stool, the one with a single shorter leg that wobbled like a mofo, should come equipped with a freakin’ seat belt.

    I wasn’t sitting there too long when a fortyish gal staggered up to the end of the bar and plopped onto a stool. Her hair looked like she had styled it with a weedeater, shot it with WD-40, and then hit it with a blowtorch. It was kind of a crinkly retro look and suited her pretty good, but it wasn’t the kind of hair that you would ever consider running your hands through, even at closing time with a few too many under your belt. She might have been a regular and nobody paid any attention to her.

    Suddenly, she shouted down the bar with everything she had "Hey, who the hell do I have to fuck in this place to get a drink over here?" I’d heard that line before, but only in jest. No joke this time, and being fog horn loud, it startled the heck out of me. Her crazed eyes were darting around the bar and settled on the guy next to me. The dude went from ruddy complexion to Casper-the-Ghost white in a split second. He grabbed his change off the bar, and hustled right out the door. Those two must know each other.

    The guy on my left casually asked his buddy sitting next to him "Ya still have that extra biohazard suit from the oil spill?" His buddy never answered, just turned back to his beer, shaking his head. About this time the bartender came marching along, drink in hand, arm fully extended. It was like you would do if you were trying to give a snarling Doberman a dog treat. The gal grabbed the glass and tossed the drink like you would a shot, the only problem being that there were some ice cubes in there and she choked.

    Geez, I just got to Hyder and I wasn’t expecting all this cheap entertainment. I kept looking over her way. It was like driving down the road and seeing a bad car wreck, you shouldn’t stare in that direction, but you just can’t help it. Nobody was rushing over to try that Heimlich thing on her, so maybe she did this little stunt every time she came in here. I don’t know if the ice cubes melted some or what, but she only turned a little purple before she was able to get some air in there. Eyes all bloodshot now, she used her first deep breath to call down to the bartender in a sound that was now more yelp than yell and said "Hit me!" while holding up two fingers, and when the drinks arrived, she hunched over the bar and got back to business.

    Wow, the place was jumpin'.
    #10
  11. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 9

    Across the road from the local croquet venue was a country store, don‘t ever think that the locals don‘t have a sense of humor, and if I had brought my whites I would have hung around for a match.


    [​IMG]

    These country stores are an essential part of the landscape out here, fuel and food, sure, but also a country song played on a continuous loop. Order your food, but ya need to take it outside to eat unless you want to smell like fried chicken for about a week. That chicken grease wiggles into your pores if you hang around too long, then ya have to take a shower with Dawn dish detergent, the same soap they use to clean ducks caught in an oil spill.

    That’s ok, heck, most of the entertainment is outside anyway. You’ll find the country song top ten subject material in a parade marching right on past, eat that chicken a la saturated fat, take notes for the song you always wanted to write. We got the hound dogs, broken down pickups, couples in love, couples out of love, big rigs, Harleys, guns, beer, big hair with the credit card boobs, and the shine that the guy on the side is selling outta his trunk. Sorry, no trains today. About covers it, man, I love these places.


    My greasy chicken has been reduced to greasy chicken bones, and I’m seriously thinking about buying some for the road, that is until I look towards the mountain I need to cross, damn, looks like it’s raining over there, ya know, yonder. Some of those roads can be a bitch when wet, time to get movin', and it was just a short run to where it can get interesting.

    It can’t be described as a delicate scene in there, ride to survive, I didn’t see a soul from 259 to 3, nuthin'. Damn, I shoulda turned around and done it again, but heck, my bones were already rattlin' around like dice in a cup. One more thing, if ya can’t find a church steeple in a freakin' bean field, don’t go in there, next thing ya know people will be stapling up MISSING posters with your photo on all the power poles.


    [​IMG]

    Just then my thoughts were interrupted by the smell of fried chicken, it must be stuck on my riding gear like clear coat, man, nobody can survive on just one order of extra crispy, ya get weak, fall over and die. I think I read that one time in the AARP magazine.

    Sign of the cross to amp up my run of good luck, kick it in gear, and I was gone over the next mountain west.
    #11
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  12. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 10

    I stop for a break and fuel at a country store about midway to Kalispell and while I’m fueling a Mercedes convertible pulls up, top down, woman driving and a fella in the passenger seat. This is one of those models that cost about as much as, heck, let’s just say they’re kind of pricey. Montana plates, but they could have just been coming in from an all-nighter in Vegas. Open silk shirt and fancy shades, a Hollywood wiseguy, he was wearing more gold jewelry than I had ever seen on a human being. He looked all worn out, or maybe all blinged out, that stuff must weigh 20 pounds. His gold ankle bracelets were kinda cool, I’d never seen them on a man before.

    The young lady had on jeans that looked like a single layer of denim paint, and she had accessorized with enough sparkly jewelry that it was like looking at an arc flash when you glanced her direction, not that I did, ok, I did, but not for too long, I didn’t want to go blind. Braless, the spandex T she had on said MMMM-YUM. I was starting to feel a little lightheaded, and while I was trying to think up a polite way of telling her that all those surgical enhancements sure looked damn good on her, they hopped back in the car and took off west.

    For some reason I had lost my train of thought, and was caught speechless.
    #12
  13. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 11

    Fueled the bike, did my shopping, and when I went up to the counter to pay, the old gal at the register leaned way back in her chair, looked me over pretty good, and said "I know you". A little taken aback, I told her I had stopped for fuel a month ago, but she shook her head. "Nope, I didn't see you then, ya were here a couple years ago, that be when I saw ya". True, another woman was at the register a month ago, and it was getting real spooky about then.


    [​IMG]

    "Ya were here with another motorcycle rider, a navy man he was, and you were getting ready to leave on a big trip to somewhere". Wow, now I'm floored, how could she have remembered me and all the rest in the midst of the thousands of people that come through the store. In fact, I was riding with Dave Hiller, a naval officer, when we stopped for fuel and a cold drink, and was in the final prep stage for an upcoming ride on the Trans Taiga and Trans Labrador.

    [​IMG]

    Exactly two years earlier I had stayed in the store for a few extra minutes to drink a Pepsi and eat an ice cream bar, telling the old gal and the half dozen hangers-on locals at the front of the store about how my day was going so far. I had already fallen off the XChallenge three times and was so covered in dust you couldn't tell what color gear I had on. I didn't realize how dirty my face was until I looked in the truck mirror when I got back to camp. Everyone was laughing damn hard at the telling when I finally got out of there, and Dave and I continued on our way.

    [​IMG]

    Remarkable memory on her part, and I told her so, it's a gift. So long, I’ll be seeing you again.
    #13
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  14. AeroFlash

    AeroFlash Adventurer

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    hehe. Good stuff...so far
    #14
  15. ben2go

    ben2go Long timer

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    @jdrocks I have very few stories like yours. I know I'm only 40, but I have traveled a good bit. I think it's because I keep my head down and don't pay attention close enough to pick up on the craziness around me. I dig these stories.
    #15
  16. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    capturing these moments is not easy, and you have to be diligent in keeping your travel log. there's so much going on when traveling by bike that you can't trust your memory to provide the context, detail, and nuance it takes to produce a story at some later date.

    you can develop a system to assist your memory, but if you're not observant, ya got nuthin'. there's always something going on when stopped at these places, and the tellin' is left to you. i couldn't begin to say how many times i've seen something interesting, and said to myself "Man, here we go", and a good story gets put on your plate.

    if you like these stories, there's many more. happy reading.
    #16
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  17. AeroFlash

    AeroFlash Adventurer

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    I love these stories. I'm new to this place and this kinda riding, but i'm liking it more and more. Some seem kinda bullshittish, but believable, so I still like em. Keep em coming.
    #17
  18. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    which one's are "bullshittish"? why bullshit, there's so much "true story" material right in front of ya that there's no need. all you need to do is tell the story, but if it sounds like bullshit, maybe i'm not doing a very good job.
    #18
  19. AeroFlash

    AeroFlash Adventurer

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    Evergreen, LA
    No, you are doing a great job, I love these stories. Didn't mean to offend with the "bullshittish" comment. Proceed, you have my attention.
    #19
  20. jdrocks

    jdrocks Gravel Runner

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    7,515
    THE KWIK MART KRONICLES 12

    I soon pass the Liard Highway intersection. I came down that road from Ft.Simpson in 2007. It’s gravel on the NWT side, but paved in BC. Like every big gravel road up here, I could tell some stories about that one. Light traffic as I start climbing and the scenery is getting better. I plan on stopping at Toad River for fuel and a break, I’ve made good time except for road construction and I’m ready for coffee and a sticky bun. Not as much activity here as the last time, but this is one of those places you meet people and then might see them again somewhere up the road, maybe a thousand miles or more up the road. I talk to some Harley guys and they were headed to Dease Lake, I would go through there later on my way down the Cassier. For a fact, there are all kinds of bikes on the Alaska Highway today.

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    A couple very nice looking Canadian girls wearing the lowriders were there for a cup of coffee…and I mean the tops of those jeans were right down there in the tropics just a few degrees north of the equator. The cutest one of them could look at water and make it boil. When they got up to leave, I was wondering if one of the girls would bend over to pick up the Loonie someone dropped by the front door.

    The view would have been not only the moon, but the whole…shucks, you get the idea.
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