The Middle of No Where

Not really sure to go after I left the Wal-Mart, began to meander around the town in search of a coffee shop or something similar. I stopped into a local gas station and asked the attendant to point me in the direction of local breakfast joint. She pointed me in the direction of the next town. Small town America is starting to get annoying. Keep in mind I’m not anywhere near the interstate so chain restaurants are scarce, to the point that there non existent. Off I went in search of some food; this would take me about 30 miles up to Sac City. This is a true slice of small town Americana that you would see in the movies. True to form from the main street, to the courthouse! I managed to find the small but ample Villager restaurant and stopped in for bite.

The restaurant was packed full geriatric locals, and the interior had seen better days. I could tell their eyes were fixed on me from the moment I walked in, as they all recognized instantly, that a stranger was in their midst. I stood at the front door half waiting to be seated and when one of the waitresses instructed me to seat myself. I picked an unobstructed table by the window. As I sat down the restaurant became alive once again with conversation. It was like I was in the Twilight Zone. I sat there quietly looking around and ease dropping on conversations. This was defiantly one of those places where every one new each other because they all leaned about there’s seats talking from one table to another.

My waitress came over dropped off a menu and asked me what I would like to drink. “Coffee please” I responded without hesitation. Looking over the menu I was blown away at how cheap the food was. I ordered two eggs sunny side up, hash browns toast and two slices of white toast for only 3 bucks!  After I finished my meal I sat there for about a half hour longer consuming coffee and listening to the local gossip.

“So Fred, what you got going on today?”
“Oh I got to go over and check on those varmint traps.”

“Mark, how’s the harvest?
“Not good. That damn Hurricane got the price of gas up so bad I don’t know how much profit I’m going to turn.”

“I have known Johnson some 3o odd years, when he was just nee high to a grasshopper!”

“I remember back in Korea……”

I could have sat there for listening to those farmers conversations for hours, but I wanted to get a move on. Before leaving the town my eyes caught a giant shed off to the side of the road with a giant ball in it? I couldn’t pass this up. Upon further inspection it turned out to be the world largest POPCORN BALL!  It had a certificate from Guinness and everything. What fantastic little treasure to stumble on.

Back on the road the rather bland scenery began to change as the hills began to unfold and the farm fields changed between corn and soy been. I also got to see some giant wind mill generators.
Crossing over the mighty Missouri river I was in Nebraska, where the next 60 miles would be filled with nothing. Not a thing but fields, the small towns I passed through were mostly deserted and went by in the blink of an eye. The road just meandered along, Now driving on a two lane highway is defiantly better then taking the interstate, you get to see way more of mostly nothing, but its interesting, the only down side is that in most spots the on coming traffic is going past you at 75mph and your only divided by about 2inches of yellow line. This can be an interesting experience when Semi-trucks blast past with a roooooowwwww and practically suck you out of your seat!

The wind had picked up just as the scenery began to change again, from farms to ranch’s my car was being rocked back and forth on the highway. You could see the foliage off to the side bending and giving in its fury. It match my image of what the west looks like, hills rolling into one another and the tall grass swaying about, as cows ate in the pastures.

I took a break from driving around 6 or so, to grab a bight to eat, in the town that’s slogan literally says: Ainsworth, “Welcome to the middle of nowhere!”  A little foreboding, but on par with what I was looking for in this trip.

I stopped to eat at the Big Jons cafe just inside the town. It had a giant man for a sign, holding a hamburger, with a sign that big it had to be good! I walked into the joint and once again fond it to be a seat your self kind of place. This must be the popular way to do it out west. I once again took a seat next at a table against a window, and began to review my surroundings. This restaurant was full of old people to, and they all new each other.

It took a minute for the very old waitress to come over and great me. She slapped down a menu that had all kinds of food on simple described as “Big Jons….this and that” With no description of what actually came on the sandwiches. I ordered the Big Jon burger, which was explained to me, “that it was like a big Mac.”

As I waited, I pulled my atlas from my bag and began to poor over the map of Nebraska. This intrigued an old man sitting by himself at the table in front of me. He kept peering back at me with his over sized coke bottle spectacles. Then he moved so he was sitting sideways in his chair, with his back to the wall, giving him a better vantage at what I was reading. He finally spoke.

“What ya got there?”

“Oh it’s a map of Nebraska”

“Where are you going?”

“Oh ahh….I don’t really know I’m just taking US 20 here till it ends.”

“Oh eh, you like to invent things?”

Now I had no idea where he was going with this but he then launched into a long rant on patents, people he knew that invented stuff, the machine shop he wanted to build, Popular Mechanics magazine, the conspiracy to kill all the black people in New Orleans, among a myriad of other conspiracy’s, and how all the Presidents like hookers! My goodness could he talk and talk and talk. This was great I mean I wanted to meat a local and engage them in conversation but this guy was out of it. When I tried to ask about the town we were in, he said “oh who cares? There’s nothing here! All we got here are those fat cowboys. All they ever talk about is there brands and there cattle, nothing interesting, now politics is what you want to discuss.”

Judging from the expressions on the other locals in the place they didn’t think much of him because they all shook there heads at him when he talked. It was kind of funny. He did touch on something of particular interest to me. He told me about when he got home from WWII he hitchhiked from the east coast to Mexico, and guess what he did there? He got himself a genuine Mexican hooker! Then he hitchhiked back to Chicago up through old Route 66.

We both left the restaurant at the same time, and he asked me what I did for a living. I told him what else, “I’m aaaaahhh……..a writer!” to which he responded “oh yeah, you think I could write a book about the great depression? You know, I lived through it.”
As he climbed into his beat up old 67 Chevy pickup truck I couldn’t help but notice it had decal stickers applied to the passenger side door that said “wind power.”  I bid him a farewell and he honked his horn at me as I climbed into my car.