Throwaway technology

Back in Monticello, Minnesota, I picked up a throw-away phone to replace my own that ceased to work in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to call ahead to an H-D dealer to arrange for an oil change, but to no avail with my existing cell phone. That’s a first for me. I’ve probably dropped it one time too many.

The throw-away is a nice little unit with 300 minutes and/or 60 days of talk time, all for $29.95. It’s also SIMcarded, which means I should be able to use it anywhere in the world with the simple addition of a new SIM card.

Obviously, I’m not planning on throwing it away.

Modern technology. Ain’t it grand?

Tourist trap

Back in the day – the 70s, actually – I visited the Wisconsin Dells for an interesting side trip to see the geology of the place. Obviously, even then, the town of the same name was around, catering in a slightly more primitive way back then to the summer tourists and their children out for a weekend or a day of fun in the sun.

It’s changed since then into a tourist trap of immense proportion. On a quick ride-through I discovered nothing – yet everything – was exactly the same, but in a bigger and more expensive way. The traffic is a horror story. The crowd has turned into an older caricature of itself, from young children to older teens and twenty-somethings hell bent on a party atmosphere. There’s plenty of dumb building-fronts to lure the young kids and their parents in, of course.

And of course there are the roller coasters, bigger and better. The same old woodies are there too, looking just a little sad and under-used. What a shame.

I bought gas and departed, post haste.

Dick Drost – Oddity

Allow me to reminisce for a moment, if you will…

I’m covering some old territory here when I used to ride south to Florida in the early 80s. I remember stopping on the east side of Chicago for gas. I asked the attendant (yes, they had gas jockeys back then) for a quick place to eat. He told me about this truck stop down the road on the 65, just off of U.S. 10, called Naked City. Of course, I just had to check it out. It was in the middle of a nudist club, and the staff were members of the club. It wasn’t anything special, other than an oddity. The owner of the place, Dick Drost, was later charged with exploiting children in California.

Naked City closed in 1986.

Dick Drost, former owner of a Roselawn, Illinois nudist camp called Naked City (previously known as Zoro Nudist Camp), promoter of Mr. and Miss Nude Teeny Bopper Universe Pageants, and proprietor of Naked City West in Southern California was booked on 5 felony and 4 misdemeanors charges on April 7, 1990 in Riverside, California. — Naked City’s Dick Drost

Boredom sets in

No casual breakfast restaurants today. I had to make do with the bagel and juice courtesy of the hotel. I took an apple too. My life is so boring that I’m writing about apples.

The 694 past Minneapolis is a breeze and makes getting past both cities a piece of cake.

The 94 south of Minneapolis is a nice drive, all green and treed, but unfortunately the speed and the traffic removes all the fun. So much for an interstate ride. Traffic is a downer on these highways. What can I say that’s good? Umm… well, one can make time. But that’s about all.

Can you tell I’m bummed by the interstate highway system? Furthermore, I have two more days of the 80 east – well, the 80 breaks off and I ride over the 76 and the 70. I’m hoping that Saturday and Sunday won’t be too bad for traffic. Is that a possibility in the day of four dollar+ gas?

700 miles to go. I could do it in a day, but why bother? I’m actually looking forward to getting off of the interstate system and riding the back roads on Sunday.

I have a severe case of interstate boredom. What’s the cure?

Ride to eat

I needed fuel, so obviously I had to pull into Fergus Falls on the high end. To my complete and utter surprise, right beside the gas’n’go, I discovered these two places side-by-side. After I had a date square the girl told me the brownies were to die for. She was right.

They also had a variety of fresh-baked bread sitting on the counter. Fortunately, I didn’t have a pound of butter stashed away, or I’d have been in bread heaven.

Take a look at the storefronts.

And the next time you’re passing by Fergus Falls, Minnesota, stop in at the Falls Baking Company. I’m glad I did. And before I forget, I’m going down to my saddlebag to get the final brownie.

Fergus Falls Baking Company

The Falls Baking Company