On a recent trip north, and deciding to stop for an iced tall neck and do some slow sipping in the small town of San Miguel, some unexpected finds loomed ahead. One was the Elkhorn Bar, the second oldest continuous of its kind in California. Was I there to save a sorry soul or look for the promised land? No, it was just blazin' hot out in a non-air ride.
After a burger and brew while exiting the door one could only notice across the highway a weathered old wooden cross hammered into the dirt surrounded by faded plastic flowers living on morning dew and dying on sunlight. Was it an Elkhorn local that never made it to the other side? I would never know, as I spotted an aging soldier of a brick building down the seemingly abandoned street with an "Antiques" sign nailed to the front.
With time to spare, how could one not investigate? Through the creaking door, what would be found, maybe an automotive pickers paradise?
You never know what can be found out there on the road. I had to put the credit card away after the "Champion Spark Plug" sign, just a relic of the automobile afterworld...
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