Not closed, never

Trout Whisperer

  • Keywords -
  • Category Hunting Stories
  • Region -
  • Prostaff Member Trout Whisperer

Im tired, I'm hungry, and I don't want to worry about not being able to get fuel, bait and something to eat, it's not on the way to where I'm headed, but I know, without a doubt, there open. It's nice just thinking, when I step out of my truck, even in a snow squall, that door will open for me.

There not open sometimes, like Monday through Friday nine to five, or Saturday from ten a:m until four p:m, because there open, all the time.

They don't have to stay open all the time, but they want to. Who in a day don't they want to see or visit with, they can't decide, so they don't.

It's the daylight, when rainy or sunny days full of delivery's, from truck drivers young and old, folks who only travel when the suns up, the roads are good, or those that like to stop for breakfast, brunch, a late lunch or the two a: m after hours bar rush tin foil wrapped cold burgers they have left to sell, because no matter what time you stop, food is being served, or maybe somebody, suddenly needed a mouse trap.

If you're a nine at night customer they like you, the door is always open and it's a great door as its too heavy in summer and squeaks like a warning horn in winter but once that door slams shut, no matter what part of the store, bar, restaurant, hardware, lodge, township go to meet and greet, part you're in, someone working, is smiling at you.
If one of the ladies that day got an idea to try out making fudge or peanut brittle, there are free samples all over the counter, a counter where no matter what you do in the place; they only have one spot to take your cash, run your plastic and thank you eye to eye. And you're going to get an eye full as the walls are covered with everything from the late eighteen hundreds to present day, there are walls, you just can't see them for all the suspended and hung history.

The place gets in my nose, and like the sounds coming from other rooms, I listen trying to see what , why, just as cooking aromas have no boundaries when foot falls from tennis shoes, mukluks or loggers boots muddy, clean, or somewhere in between can go anywhere on thick log floors that let you know someone is coming or going. This isn't a rug on the floor kinda joint. You're welcome, from your feet to head, and they mean it. The trout whisperer

Posted by Trout Whisperer under Hunting Stories on January 24, 12 08:48 AM | Permalink

No TrackBacks

TrackBack URL:

Leave a comment