A reader of this blog who shall go unnamed ( his initials are R.O.N.S.I.M.O.N.) has been whining that I have not shown any pics of post offices --especially old western ones. Apparently this unnamed reader has a thing for P.O.s . I was going to completely ignore the situation but as I was riding into Nashua today ,which is about the size of a large business envelope with 3 postage stamps on it, I noticed the sign on the right of this building. This is the MAIN post office in town. Maybe tomorrow I will be able to locate one of the branches in town, and get a photo of that as well.
This bell is about 20 feet from my tent and unlike a lot of decorative bells it is fully functionable. I hope I do not have any of those reoccuring nightmares where I get the urge to get up and attempt to sleep ring the closest bell. That would be embarrassing--it is one thing to do this at home on occasion (Miss Sassy keeps a small cowbell on the night stand for those instances) but in a strange town in a strange state where vigilante folks carry guns around openly with a bell that could probably wake up the mosquitoes in Saco which is 100 miles away , could get a little dicey.
My home for the night. The bell is just out of the pic to the right.
btw--as I was coming out of the shower (semi cold with a button you need to press every 15 seconds to restart the flow) I meet John from Colorado who asks me if I am camping for the night. He must have been tipped off by the tent.
Anyway John tells me he has been living in his pickup truck parked about 50 yards away for the last 3 weeks. He uses the shower and bathroom regularly. He was traveling randomly around the country for awhile when he blew the engine in his truck here . He is working for a guy around town to earn the $2900 it will take to fix so he can move on.
I liked this guy immediately. He reminds me so much of myself in another life time when I hitchhiked around nthe country with no game plan beyond that particular day. I told John I would buy him breakfast at Bergies in the morning and look forward to talking more with him.
As I write this I remember clearly my first road venture . My sister Kathy drove me to old route 40 near Eaton so I could hitch to St.Louis to see the Gateway Arch which was about a year old. I was a soph or junior in high school and could not understand why my mom said "if you do this stupid thing I am locking the door behind you --so don't come back" I kinda knew she was not totally serious and went anyway. My mom was a saint and I was a shithed a lot .
Well it is getting too dark to see the keyboard well enough to keep from making more mistakes than usual. Time for checking out the inside of my eyelids.
Even though there have not been too many flying around I am taking precautions in the event one of those bastard sons of bitches (another old time Frenchtown expression) mosquitos gets inside my tent. I am no longer defenseless like when I am concentrating on balancing a bike going 4 mph up a steep hill. I will not be a helpless victim tonight.
I am taking my anti dog/bear/Hells Angel canister of pepper spray in with me as well as my moose gutting pocket knife with the 5 inch blade. I won't go down easy but if it does happen I will be taking that mosquito with me.